


Sometimes

by leeizzy



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Hansencest - Freeform, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent/Child Incest, Recovered Memories, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, please tell me if i misspelled something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeizzy/pseuds/leeizzy
Summary: They don't have a normal relationship and a simple life. Chuck did things to get his father's attention. Herc tried his best to look away from his son. He realized it, the time they fought for Striker, that he's in love with Hercules Hansen. Since then, he had tried to do something about it, wait for it to go away. But the more he ignored it, the more complicated things became. The tension between them got more frustrated, as they desperately pushed each others away. And when he couldn't deny it anymore, Pitfall happens.Herc lost Chuck in the war and he didn't have an idea what to do about it then. Chuck didn't die, and that's not even the wildest thing he could dream of. But things didn't get any easier, when he learned he couldn't live without his son.*I'm really bad at summarizing. Sorry. And I actually don't have a title for this one. So it's just the name of a random song I was listening to. And I like writing my stories with events in messed up order*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the story for this and started writing a few years ago. I planned on posting it when it's done. After a few chapters, I got cold feet, because it doesn't feel original enough to me, like I have nothing new to offer you guys. I've been trying to pick it up again 'cause I ran out of stuff to read, and I kinda want to finish something for once. So here it is. This is just about 3/5 of the story but it's a good chunk of it, I guess... It's at a quite decent place to take a rest and for me to come up with the next part.
> 
> Again, I must say that I do have a tendency to lose interest and give up midway but I'm not going to, I hope. Also I'm the depressingly slow writing and always struggling for words kind of person. And English is not my first language.

     Chuck didn’t want to die. He was too young to leave this world.

     Yes. Without all the kaiju bullshit, it’s still a shitty world, with pride, and duties, responsibilities and a whole spectrum of other shitty things. But there’s always something quite close-to-decent holding him back, something for him to hold on to.

     Like this arsehole.

     Just… _Fuck!_ Fuck him, and his big arms, and Chuck’s weakened body, trying so hard not to give in, to fall deep into that all muscular smoky scent like a goddam Shakespearean actress, like Chuck even knew what that was. Who knew? He probably had already spilled his last drop of dignity long before the old man decided that this was the best way keeping Chuck together. _It was_. But seriously, only gods knew why the fuck he actually deserved this right now.

     He hated it. The way they were… the way he was, leaning his back against that broad chest, head dropped down on the steady shoulder. Let those hands did… whatever the fuck they were doing in his hair. _He’s not hugging you, y’ dumb… fucking cunt!_ ‘Cause, situations like this, tended to turn every little thing too close to the kind of caring, that soothed like a magical blanket wrapping around his grown ass body of a man. But he saw the hopelessness in the way those hands were trying to stop the blood leaving his body. He’d already lost too much, desperation smeared on their skin. How it hurt like a bitch, since Chuck would never have anything ever again, affection or pain.

_Bastard!_

     So, so stupid of him. For wanting... For even thought about it from the first place. _Is this even real_ , the fondness, for the first time, he’s feeling in this embrace?

     He’d do anything, to have it for once when he was able to give back. But what could he do then? If he wasn’t dying, Chuck was too, well… _him_ for that to begin with, anyway.

     At least his head was held high. Chuck was definitely not melting into his old man with his heart on his hands. And this fatherly illusion wasn’t whispering fatherly shit to his ear.

     “I’m here now, Chuck. We’re almost there.”

_Yeah, like we even could… Like you really care._

     Another wave of nausea sent the whole world around him spinning. His burning body was pressed harder against dad’s as if the man knew. Chuck sensed the tension, the shiver vaguely creeping up on his dampened skin. When it lingered on his lips, he almost forgot about the pain dug on his bruised flesh. He slipped away into that tenderness like blue ocean and cottony cloud.

     “Sorry… I, nmg…” – He couldn’t breathe. – “I think I’m losing my mind…”

     Dad’s hand was cool on Chuck’s cheek, all rough, calloused yet comforting. Strange, how he felt like he couldn’t do this any longer.

     “It’s ok, baby. I’ve got you.”

 

\---------

 

     Hercules Hansen is too old to live this way.

     Many days of work, and many nights of nonstop drifting. Hearing things, seeing things. Memories, images, a whole vision of cerulean and ocean blue. He tries to remind himself if this is counted as living, or why starting drinking is an affordable coping mechanism at this stage for him. Frankly, there’s no protocol for how to continue after losing so much for a time of giant robots punching giant monsters. Routines, that’s all he knows, that’s what he has been doing so far. Herc does his best keeping order like a military man. Eating, going to bed even though he can’t sleep, putting on the uniform, showing up looking like a Marshal days after days. He should be dead right now, drained from exhaustion. Or turned into ashes, melted into the oblivion, he’d prefer. Why is he even here, in this random empty bar, listening to this nonsense like he’s not just a guy with another day in the string of normal crumbling life?

     “How’re you doing, Marshal?”

 _Fucking Becket_ … Of all people. How dare he?

     “How’s Mako?” – Takes in a lungful of air, Herc tries to convince himself the lump in this throat he swallowed was indeed a snarl.

     “Not drinking her sanity away.”

 _Like feeling the urge to walk out into the ocean._ “I’m fine, Raleigh.”

     Herc tells the girl to leave him the bottle, not sure about the second glass she brings. It’s going to be a long night, even if they’re, hopefully, not really doing this. And he doesn’t have any energy left for anger or pretending.

     “I understand, Herc-”

     “I’m fine…”

     Such a spectacular occasion, when he’s not beating the hell out of the arsehole where this kind of crap comes from. But then again, marshals aren’t allowed to do bar brawling. Everybody seems to ignore the fact he is holding on to the life with nothing but scrap he was left with from everybody else. Fucking Stacker, fucking Pitfall, fucking Scissure… His eyes start to burn, watching the amber liquid pouring, dancing its way to fill in the emptiness. He is not going to talk about his feeling. He is not reliving the pain of losing his son. Drunk or sober.

     Like he even has a spark of idea how to feel about his fucking life.

     He bottoms up his drink when Raleigh decides to join him, casually like this isn’t another suicide watch or red flag to put on reports for some suits upstairs. The current Marshal can’t be some dude who happened to be left lonely by this war, like other hundred thousands of people, included Raleigh bloody heroic Becket and Mako Stacker’s favorite Mori.

_Here we go then!_

     Young Becket takes out a bottle of white pills Herc’s supposed to pick up from his shrink at their abandoned session. He slips it into a pocket, getting worry about the some toilet clogging. _Doctor-patient confidentiality my arse!_ He’s aware, people have been talking since, behind his back, in front of his face, while sitting beside him in some random places. Shatterdome is full of experts in sending their only twenty-year-old son to his death these days. He couldn’t even have fifteen minutes in peace without some women asking him how the fuck he’s doing. Everybody tells him what to not do and none of them can tell him what he should do.

     ‘ _Don’t starve yourself’,_ he hears, ‘ _don’t blame yourself,_ _don’t think it’s_ insert-some-name _’s fault’…_

     Somewhere between the empty of his glass, and the mention of the word ‘PPDC’, Herc has given up listening. The alcohol doesn’t stay long in his head. Not enough to drown Raleigh Becket’s voice. He wonders though, _was this why he left_ , if they did this to him, when the kid’s brother died?

     “Days after days, I keep coming to his bed… to wake him up.”

 _Yeah!_ Herc does that too, seeking for his Chuck, every moment he suddenly remembers he has a conscious mind. Old connections die hard, even for young people, it seems. For a slightly more than a social conversation between Marshal and Ranger, it has escalated rather quickly, considers this is just the second refill.

     “I still find myself wait for him. Like he’s just going out. He’d come back with a smile on his face, ask me if I missed him too…”

     Another sip of whiskey ‘cause Hercules Hansen is just kinda there. Can’t remember to forget anything either. Whole body’s on edge, heart flutters, waiting for his son on the Kwoon mat since he has one more irritating day at work covering for Stacker, thinking what’s taking the boy so long. Herc catches a smile die on his lips from time to time, recalling Chuck is at the bottom of the sea.

     Such long way to go before the war is really behind them.

     A mute chuckle escapes from his throat and Raleigh keeps talking.

     “He’s more than family, Herc. Even when it’s not just the two of us, he was… everything to me, the only one. He is, in some way, my whole world. Like I’ll do anything for him if he just walks through that door. Like I’ll do anything to see him again. And don’t you dare tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

     He does. God forgive them all, but he does. It’s obvious to his scarred mind then, as sharp as the heat in his tired eyes, every times his mind wanders to Chuck’s empty grave. But that’s exactly why he’s not doing this with anyone in this lifetime. Maybe it’s his punishment, God took his boy away from him because he wasn’t a father to his son.

     “Herc, what are you doing-”

     “Paying…”… _for my sins._ – Those words almost slip.

     “Don’t be like this.”

     “I’m leaving, Ral!”

     “Chuck wouldn’t want you-”

      “I don’t know what _the fuck_ I am…”

     One mention of his boy’s name in whiskey’s bitterness and tears start rolling down. After all this time… _With or without him, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be._

     Chuck’s gone, carried too many regrets and resentment. The dead takes the living’s soul with them. They are all utterly desperate for some rest, even when to Herc, it could mean lying down by Chuck’s side. The day seems dark and he is genuine surprise for the amount of fuck he’s actually gives.

     He shouldn’t have done this, letting his guard down. The pounding headache is probably from Raleigh’s attempt to glare a hole between his eyes. Either the kid is drunk. Or he really needs to find another guy or gal to drink with for celebration. And _what’s up with this hand holding bullshit now?_ Along with everybody else, Raleigh should have just left him alone.

     “I am not… people, Herc. I’m not blind. They can’t see past their lives. They don’t see what the Drift shows us… How can they understand what it’s like when every living moment is a burden, another moment of trying too hard not to run to their soul?”

     Was that him, or Raleigh Becket really didn’t just sound like himself?

     “Raleigh-”

     “They can’t feel it. But we are what we are. And there’s nothing wrong about that. There’s nothing wrong about taking care of the ones you love, even if that’s mean becoming something you aren’t supposed to.”

_Too close, Raleigh. Too much._

     Golden boy here is starting to get on his nerves. _–_ “You should go now.”

     Herc can’t take this anymore.

     “I’m sorry, I really do. I just want you to know, when it’s too much to hold on, it’s okay to think about it, about letting go. But as long as you can hear the tiniest thread of connection calling your name, don’t ever give up, Marshal.”

     Herc holds on to his glass as hard as he’s holding himself together. But without a doubt, he is losing reality.

     Raleigh came and went faster than he could wish. The silence in the room is thick with emptiness and white noise. It’s not that he isn’t grateful this is over with. Emotion rarely rushes through him like a thought finally snaps out in his mind. By the time his numbing senses come back, Herc’s alone with another drink in his hand.  Maybe he’s drunk, after one shot of expensive whiskey. He’s getting old after all, too old to be lectured about love and life by an American Lover, anyway.

     He really wants to punch somebody in the face though. He wishes some night, we could have nightmare. But tonight is just going to be another sleepless night.

     Another time then. When his life is no longer a scrambled collection of events, with a vague beginning and a clouded ending.


	2. Chapter 2

      _Wow. I get it now. No wonder why he’s so bitter sometimes..._

     In a bizarrely cold May in Australia, Chuck thought about a man named Scott, with his jokes included wine-fine sugar daddy, and something like American Gigolos.

     Whatever those thing were.

     He’s still weak for anything physical. So Chuck wouldn’t waste a perfectly innocent morning in the park, even when everybody’s staring at them like they did something wrong. Yeah, that’s a man, with a boy’s eating ice cream. Take a good look, people! _The guy should’ve forgiven himself more often._ But honestly, what the hell did he thing going out like that, all dog tag and boots and jacket, like the stubble and toned body weren’t enough for the ladies?

     He must have a very colorful love life back in the day. Baby boy couldn’t help himself thinking, the moment those eyes smiled at him and Chuck was given a wacky lemon cone. He licked his favorite treat, lost for words to describe what shade of blue they were.

     “Is he okay, Herc?”

     “He’s tougher than he looks. The boy can handle the cold.”

_Sky blue…_

     “Oh! He really is his father’s son…”

     For some reason he couldn’t quite point a finger at, Chuck hated this woman as much as he hated hearing that. Maybe because she’s all blonde and American, and… _Meadow_. Urgg! Even the name is annoying. Good thing old man got him covering his arse. What could he say? They didn’t even care about the ring on his finger. And kids were allowed to be dicks sometimes. So without a word, Chuck pulled his hand from the firm grip, wandered his butt off and ate away the irritation. His little brain hadn’t been able to form the combination of words such as ‘fuck off, bitch’, so that should do it. The ice cream’s sweet on his tongue, when Herc said goodbye quickly to chase after him.

     “What’s on your mind, baby?”

 _Lady needs to get in line._ The guy asked like he didn’t even notice the unusual weather. And seriously, what kind of man gave a child ice cream when people needed to hold hand?

     “I saw her before.”

     “Family’s friend.” – Another apologetic smile. – “She helped delivering you, you know?”

     He really shouldn’t expect too much from a child who had trouble remembering his own father. Few short days every year, ‘dad’ was still awkward on his lips and the hugs were just… sometimes felt like out of nowhere. Hell, Chuck couldn’t remember his full name. But the guy was nice, and mom kissed him. And he… Dad held him tight, every time Chuck helped him run away from ladies. Perhaps that happened to all five-ish year old boys like him. It’s normal if he even didn’t have an idea how he looked like. Maybe like him. Yeah… Maybe he was his father’s son. Nobody’s looking that good, smiled up like that, kneeling to tie some kid’s shoelace. Or he’s going to be taken by a man who bought him lemonade on a cone.

_I pulled you out, mate. Don’t you give me up or leave me dying._

     “Sorry about that.” – He sighed, tried to have a taste of Chuck’s ice cream.

     Jeez! Thought shiny puppy eyes was supposed to be his thing.

     The boy took a long look, and not sure why, he couldn’t blame the women anymore. He’s too young to realize some people are very good at breaking hearts. He should get a dog, perhaps. Or grow up faster so he can protect the old man. Herc walked with him in silence, and Chuck asked himself why on earth he even had to care.

     “Where’s mommy?”

     “She went dancing. It’s just you and me for the day, kid. You think you’ll be okay with that?”

 _Like you could even say no to ladies._ – “What’s dancing?”

     “It’s something you do with people you love.”

     “You didn’t go…”

     “Someone needs to look after you.”

     “Can we dance?”

     One big gulp of ice cream and Chuck immediately regretted his words.

     He meant ‘with her’. Not like… together. Dad had no right to laugh. It’s not fair ‘cause that what you got when you gave your child a half-hearted answer. Being a kid sucked. Herc ruffled his hair and somehow he lightened up even brighter than the hottest Australian summer sun.

     “If you say so, I guess.”

     Dammit! He was young and he just wanted his mommy.

     “Is it fun?” – His baby cheeks were still hot thinking about what just happened.

     “Could be. When you found the right partner.”

      As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough, somehow big guy made him blush harder than Chuck ever imagined he could in his entire short life. It’s so annoying and too damned hard for a boy his age to enjoy being tossed in the air holding ice-cream. But no… He’s allowed to be a bit clingy, realizing how tall he was, how high his dad was having him. The inner child in him loved a pair of strong arms and broad shoulder, ensuring him he’s not going to be dropped. Not that he’s scared or something.

     “When you grow up I’ll take you dancing…”

     That’s nice of him to say but Chuck needed a haircut more. A few more centimeters and he bet he would look like a girl. _Wonder what he’d prefer_ , which was dad’s favorite color, long or short, like a boy or a girl…?

     “… if you want, baby, whatever you want.”

     “I like that.”

     Words were tepid, since an image popped up in his mind. Mom, with locks of wavy blonde hair, her dress fluttered in sunlight like butterfly wings. She was beautiful, it made dad smiled, watching her moves, hands in hands with her. He was happy. Chuck thought about that, being happy, about making him happy. But he still didn’t like his hair long. And gods know what would happen in the world when he’s older.

     “I’ll wait for you then.” – They didn’t realize it’s such a weird promise.

     Chuck just held on tight and counted the steps they’re taking. Little boy told himself to remember this feeling, being in dad’s embrace. There’d be something to look forwards to. Perhaps future’s worth waiting for after all.

 

\---------

 

     The clock is counting the silence, and it is another restless night for Hercules Hansen.

     Not the kind that leaves him tossing and turning with thoughts, nor something that makes him wake in cold sweat, to panic in the middle of the night. It was torturous at first. ‘til one day it wasn’t anymore.

     Herc opens his eyes to a strange sight of their room in the dim light, realizes he’s on the wrong bed again. It’s becoming a bad habit, he knows. But no one’s there to stop them. So he turns to his side and helps Max climb on.

     “I’m alright, Max. I was just…” – _dreaming_?

     Guess so. Perhaps, he’s getting used to nights like this one. He wanted to run, to desert a thousand times, to scream and jump into the ocean. But he doesn’t want to. He’s supposed to wait. For forever, maybe, knowing a part of him is gone, left him to regret, to mourn ‘til the day he die.

     Max stops sniffing, going around on Chuck’s jacket to look at him.

     Herc scratches his head when the dog whines, let him nuzzle a sleeve to his cold hand. He’s not sure how he should explain the concept of dying to the poor thing. Six months or sixty years, time is as meaningless to him. Max still waits for Chuck to comeback. The way Herc is still held back and still holding on.

     “It’s just you and me now, Max. Will you be okay…?”

     Herc feels sick, in the darkness that turns to swooping pitch black under him.

     Will they… he, ever be? Now saying it out loud for countless times, he just can’t deny himself the fact that it seems so impossible.

     God! He misses his son like crazy… How he blushed under the Australia sun when the wind played with his hair. Herc wanted to kiss the tear in those eyes and hold him tight like he used to, the day he walked away… They all knew that’s how thing would end, yet he let it happened when they said their goodbyes.

     “I should have been with him.”

     To save him? To protect him? Maybe just to die with him… Where does he even begin? How could he have stopped a nuclear bomb hundred miles under the sea. But it was his fault. His son wasn’t supposed to be like him. Herc should have held him and ran before he decided to start down that road. It scorches a hole in his heart, wondering if Chuck had been scared when everything around him burst into flame.

     A part of him knows all the answers. He thought he’s getting used to this bleeding agony.

     He wasn’t like this when Angela died. Herc can’t help thinking, if this is his imagination, the touches, those eyes… Those vivid memories as if it has just been moment instead of a lifetime ago… Were they really the way he remembers them? Or time is slowly making him forgetting his boy?

     Someone knocks on his door and Max’s barks bring him to the present. Herc blinks and calms his beating heart, since the times when Chuck and he were woken in the early hours of morning has really gone.

     “Sorry…” – he whispers under his breath. – “I think I’m losing my mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck science :v

     An Aussie guy, a Peruvian Chinese, a little girl and a bulldog walked into a hospital canteen…

     Not sure how he got mixed up in this, but Tendo is actually glad he’s out of retirement, far away from his little town. Many years staring at hologram, he would never imagine how sick he can get with real food back at home. Cruelty and racism are always the secret ingredients he can’t swallow. He’s so used to richness of multi-colors, multi-cultures and multi-languages, packed in one place as big as a giant robot facility, he thought all those bullshits hadn’t been a problem since the kaijus rose from the sea.  Such a long journey to find a place you call home.

     Shatterdome, anywhere in the world, is an ugly steel box, run by a bunch of people with issues like it’s a goddamn dystopian future. And he was so sure this place was no place near decent to raise a child. But then again, he thought he’d never had a baby girl for another ten years. So if cheap coffee, bagels and portion meals mean peace for his little family then he’s more than happy to be back. At least people never turn their back to their own kind. He does love the smell of motor oil and burned metal in the Shatterdome morning. Besides, the Academy is undeniably excellent with Sciences and Programming. And his daughter literally couldn’t wait to ditch her classmates and teachers at school.

_“Your friend looks sad.” –_ Billie signs to him, one hand still refuse to let go of the little blue jello bowl she saw for the first time in her life, and decided that was her favorite thing in the world.

     Tendo nods, finishes braiding her hair. – “ _His son, ill. Doctors, don’t, let him see._ ”

     His hands are still getting used to her language. They’re both learning, but his limited vocabulary is just enough to make her holds him tight. She understands him, and uses her own way to speak when she knows her father is struggling, trying to keep up with her. Tendo smiles and put a little bow tie on her hair. Billie offers the guy some mashed potato, _‘it’s delicious…’,_ and goes back to her lunch.

_“Dad will help you. Don’t cry, Mister.”_

     No way he’s interpreting that. – “Come on, man. You’d better finish what my daughter gives you.”

     Herc looks at him and Tendo’s just grateful the war is over for his family.

     They found Chuck, two days ago. Drifting in the Pacific Ocean with a crack on his escape pod, enough for oxygen, and a fine line between hibernation and critical hypothermia. Nothing too damage they can’t fix, physically. His brain is still stunned from all the science but whatever. Happened to a Japanese dude way back in 2006. So now when the world is living in a giant fiction, God can spare another pass for the boy who helped save the world. Finally, one break for little guy. Although comatose with potential of brain damage is a tiny break. But no father should live, knowing he let his only son die young without a hug, or saying ‘I love you’.

     Poor guy! Half a year of pointless grieving and now they don’t even let him see his baby. Tendo gives Billie his jello bowl after she finished her. He doesn’t even dare to think about if somebody takes his Billie away, even for just one second in some mindless dream.

     “You look like shit.”

     Herc stops drawing in his food to raise an eyebrow. – “Language, Tendo. I don’t care if she can’t hear you.”

     Tendo’s hesitated, not so sure about testing the water.

     “Since when were you the Father of the Year…?”

     Herc’s more than calm. Like scary calm. Makes Tendo worries he might snap and decide to take a bullet to the brain behind closed door. God forbidden if shit goes wrong... The guy seems to forget how to eat properly. A spoonful of food just sits there in his mouth. Luckily, Billie gave him mashed potato. Maybe they should give him something he doesn’t have to chew on these days.

     “I’m sorry, Herc…”

     “No… It’s okay.”

     His daughter pulls on Herc’s sleeve and pushes a glass of water towards him. Tendo doesn’t know what to think about the curve he’s struggling to naturally put on his bearded face. Thank goodness little Billie is here with them. Her father is really clueless about how to keep his old friend alive.

     Well, at least he still talks, casually as it can be.

     “How’re you doing, mate?”

     “Losing weight.”

     “Football?”

     “Nah. Fatherhood.” – They both chuckle. – “Can’t complain though. I’m just happy we found the right medicines for her.”

     Took a while but Billie has finally recovered from all the therapies.

     “Your wife’s okay with you taking her here?” – The cup of water is half empty.

     “Probably no but she left, so… it’s cool.”

     Many years being a single mom to a child with Kaiju Blue tends to do that to a woman.

     “She had Billie when we’re still at Anchorage. Nobody said anything to me. And when I came home, she left our girl at my door steps and people just couldn’t keep their mouths shut about anything.”

     One gentle tap and Herc takes another spoonful of salad. _Well done, baby girl!_ Tendo couldn’t help feeling proud. She did a good job, taking care of his little Billie. Better than what he expects from himself to be honest. Tendo couldn’t exactly blame the woman for what she’d been through. She taught herself sign language to raise their daughter, and three jobs to pay the bills. They were his responsibilities after all. His hometown loves to talk people to their depression. But it’s him who wasn’t there for them.

     “Sorry to hear that.” – Herc sits there, tries to stay straight with a shadow looming his days.

     “Karma’s a bitch, my friend. All those glorious years fooling around and God’s punishment was a beautiful baby girl.”

     She was born with the pain from kaiju blood. But they’re all a little fucked up on the inside. And in this ruins, she’s more than perfect to him.

     “She might need a kidney when she grows up though. But I’m a match, I can be her donor so that’s fine. Alison’s still hot for me after all those years. Billie loves her as much as she adores my girl. And she calls me her hero, every day.”

     Tendo doesn’t intent to make them both cry in the middle of a hospital canteen. But Herc doesn’t need his story to lose it. Everyone has their own baggage, especially the one tries to appear normal when things are wrong.

     “You’ll have it soon, you know…”

     Herc holds his breath, like he’s too old for the weight he’s baring.

     “A happy family.”

     “Doesn’t feel like that, mate.” – A sigh shatters in his chest.

     “I walked away from retirement with tax freed pension to go and rescue your son. You’re gonna talk about shit like that in front of me now?”

     “Sorry…”

     In the crowded room, he is just another guy who could lose someone in this life...

     Nobody looks, in places like this, when a man cries. But he and Tendo are both grateful Billie is a little busy under the table feeding Max jello. She’s too precious to witness an old man with this much sadness his eyes.

     Herc wipes the tear away before it had any chance to roll down. He takes a quick glance at Billie and pretends to have some interest in his food just in case she catches them. Men don’t do feelings well, especially the Hansens. Watching him like this, Tendo suddenly realize there are a million ways you can screw up hard being a single father, no matter who you are.

     The guy kills used to kill giant monsters is more than terrified to hold his son. Marshal or not, Hercules Hansen better have his heart on a plate if Chuck survives.

     “Listen man, you boy is in there, with all the best doctors they can find. It’s true, that’s really him. I pulled his pod up and hooked it in with my own hands. And you’re just a coma away from having him back. He’s a little bitch but he’s yours. God knows he deserves better. You both do. No offense, big guy, but you owe him. Guys don’t get raised lonely in the cockpit just to be killed at twenty one.”

     Sometimes we all deserve a little push. Tendo couldn’t help himself.

     “I had that coming…”

     Herc continues burying his face down. And Billie appears from under the table with a bunch of tissues out of nowhere. The guy jumps a bit. But Tendo knows she just wants to show them her origami cranes. If he’d really taken care of himself, Herc could’ve flushed.

     “I can’t have my hope up, Tendo. I can’t lose him again.”

     He sighs, watching his daughter’s happy smile. Running is always easier, that he understands. He still remembers the time they finished folding one thousand tiny cranes when she was doing therapies. He and Billie are no Herc and his boy. Everyone seemed to forget they’re father and son until the moment Chuck walked away with Stacker. Tendo saw the way Herc prepared himself to live the rest of his life with nothing but regret, dying a little bit every day. Now there’s a miracle, he doesn’t know what to do with it. And Herc still doesn’t know how to be anything to his boy.

     They were nowhere under the vast umbrella of dandy-hood. Tendo knows about the thing between those two. He doesn’t care, as much as people think anyone should. _We all need to do what we need to do,_ as long as no one gets hurt. So he just folds cranes with his daughter, and says:

     “Newt is booking the earliest flight, Herc. Not sure how he’s going to help but Hermann is coming with him too. We’ll get your boy back. You hear me?”

     “What if he doesn’t want me…”

     Before he can say anything, a woman in white coat walks towards them. Her voice carry the vibe that for one legit moment, all Tendo’s nightmares about hometown foods craw up to his mouth.

     “Herc!”

     “Gabby?”

     “What a surprise!”

_Yes, indeed, madam red lipstick and black high heels._

     Call him whatever kind of -cist people want but Tendo never trust a white woman her age with blonde hair and that amount of makeup. They’re trying too hard that there’s no way something is not going on. In a way, she reminds him of the housewife who goes to church and gossips about you behind your back right in front of your face. The only thing surprises him is how clueless he feels about the way Herc stares at her. And the way she smiles like it’s fucking sunny at Antarctica.

     “I heard what happened.”

     “You’re a doctor now.”

     Tendo squints, instinctively finding her badge and sees a cross.

     “Yes. Medical doctor. And I consult and provide your family’s medical records.”

     There’s a history then. She does look like the type of person whom you imagine would need some confession time. Herc introduces them and Tendo feels the urge to hold back Billie’s hand.

     “ _She smells weird, dad._ ”

     Bet even Billie can hear her scream Lolita Lempicka from across the ‘dome. She frowns, receiving a tissue from him, and they’re both sorry for the fate of one crane-could-have-been. _Jesus Christ!_ Fleur de Corail, seriously? When he was younger, following that perfume in a bar pretty much meant ‘easy hookup’ or ‘one night stand’. Now to him, that amount is just The Smell of a Woman’s Midlife Crisis and Insecurity.

     The player in him is really questioning the genuine in this woman. _Better not join the table, Doctor_! He’s not ready to teach Billie about coffee or perfume anytime soon.

     “Thank you, Gabby. For taking care of my son.” – Herc’s obviously avoiding eye contact with him.

     “You wanna get coffee sometimes?”

_What’s the deal with this one?_

     Tendo helps Billie wipe her hands, and prays to any god he’s not a natural like he knows he is. He was speechless for a whole minute after she left the guy… whatever the fuck that was. Hope the Aussie’s coffee is just coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you don't like spoilers then don't read the note at the end of this chapter.*

     “Where did you go, dad?”

_Well… good morning to you too. It’s good to see you again, son. What a beautiful day for a walk in the park, don’t you think?_

     Herc tossed away his unknotted tie and shrugged off his uniform jacket.

     “Just work… Then had a beer with some friends.”

     Soft spring light outside the window poured in, casted a dull saturated tint over his blurry vision. The cool air hit his flushed skin. And Herc was too exhausted to realize how late or early it was in the morning. He’s just gonna ignore Chuck, when the boy was standing there with nothing but a towel around his waist.  He’s not watching the way steam on his skin curled and danced around him like halo, made his son glowing in the magical blue light. Before either of them could feel the tension rising, Chuck went to his room and Herc walked to the kitchen, poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. In the faint haze of alcohol and the burning sensation in his throat, Herc thought to himself, no drinking whatsoever, at least until his son turned eighteen, went to college, and nobody had to worry about radiation in a Jaeger anymore.

     This entire week the board had been a pain in the arse. All those reports and demonstrations seemed to go on and on, eat away his life and his mind. Not to mention all the attention and mindless celebrating. Nobody seemed to realize it’s the second drop and things had only got even tougher. God, fucking damn it! He shouldn’t have let Scott talked him into drinking. They didn’t go to their previous post-party. And this deployment, everyone was just so pumped. Even Stacker acted like they’d got the whole war in their hands. At least Herc should’ve stay to deal with those tech guys instead of going home in this stage. They killed some kaiju and he felt like he couldn’t breathe around his son. Why did this feel like a walk of shame? He didn’t even do a fucking thing... Or perhaps that’s exactly what he’d done, leaving Chuck alone at home like always, even before the whole week of his deployment in Manila.

 _He’s tougher than he look. The boy can handle himself…_ Not like Chuck needed him anyway. Not like he’s barely legal, to have a drink or to go to some titty bar with daddy in Philippines.

     His eyes darted to Chuck the moment he walked in, white shirt and blue jean hugging his well-trained body. Herc couldn’t help a side glance, from head to toe, just checking if the boy’s okay. He looked as young and fresh as sunshine outside their window, despite the mysterious cold radiated from him as he walked by. The hint of strong muscle under the soft fabric couldn’t hide the fact he’s still a kid. Herc took another sip from his cup, tried to fight the cool air creeping up on his skin. Chuck poured himself some coffee and sat across the table, eyeing him. Because of course he’s not going to let this slide.

     “What’s with Gabby?”

     “None of your business, boy.”

     He didn’t just spend the night awkwardly drinking with a bunch of old men to go home to this kind of shit. But when did he ever get what he wanted? When did he even know what’s really on his son’s mind?

     Fuckin’ hell! They hadn’t had this kind of exchange since forever. And he hadn’t heard that name for a long time. Must be years ago, when Angie died. Her memorial was near. And also Chuck’s birthday. Just a few days apart. They probably wouldn’t do anything about neither one. Herc shifted in his chair, for some more space he could put between them. He felt like he hadn’t looked into those piercing blue eyes for years.

     “She’s a nurse at RMH, son. She was a family’s friend. You might not remember her but-”

     “I do. That’s not what I’m asking.”

     Somewhere in their brief exchange, his heart had missed a beat.

     “I’m not doing this again, then…”

     For one constant reason, Angie had always been the only woman in their life. The boy seemed determined to continue keeping it that way. Herc didn’t remarry, and Chuck hadn’t even show any interest in finding a girlfriend. They hadn’t exactly talked about it. But he knew Chuck got upset with any woman who got near his father. _It’s still too soon_ , Herc told himself. It’s not like they wanted to or had time for it anyway. He’s too busy with work and not being in his son’s life. The boy’s busy surrounding himself with books, exercises, and giant machines. Things were still rough as an open wound. And Chuck was even more sensitive this time of the year.

     “You’ve been seeing each other?”

     “We did talk.” – Herc sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes.

     “You’re going to sleep with her?”

     “We were just friends, Chuck.”

     There was a time, this kind of on-behalf jealousy act used to be cute to him.

     Come to think of it, Gabby was pretty much the closest he ever got as someone more than a normal female friend. Only because Angie liked her, and she could take Chuck’s ice cold dagger glares more than anyone. The boy also made sure she got a special amount of it. Chuck always acted, as if she’s the one that would eventually make his father leave or move on. From ‘the name Gabrielle Meadow is annoying’, when they were still a happy family, to ‘do it and see what’ll happen, I double dare you’, these days. The fact she looked quite like Angie even made thing worse. Same height, same set of features, same wavy blonde hair. So many resemblances, that she could almost replace Chuck’s mom. Maybe that’s a good thing. Herc traced the ring on his finger, thinking about settling down in a meaningless relationship so everyone would shut the fuck up. A typical non-complication without any resentment or guilt. Sounded nice enough to him. Sometimes, the boy just reminded him how much he needed an Angela in his life. All those frustration and confusion were growing under his skin. Herc’s desperate for anything, nowadays, to distract him from the way he looked at his own son.

     Perhaps he should get laid, that’s all. Herc unbuttoned his shirt a bit and too drunk to care how he looked. It had been a long time since he’d had any normal kind of contact with another human being. He couldn’t live like this, with the kind of tension that made him just want to push Chuck down the floor. He hadn’t done anything about the growing distance between them, ‘til one day it became too much to bear.

     The sound of the oven snapped him out of his thought. He recognized the look, when Chuck handled him some tissue without saying a thing. Herc took it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his cheek. The boy wore that constant expression on his face. He sat down with elegance, and leaned against the chair, carrying a glassy haze over his way. Couldn’t seem to break himself out of that gaze. Herc was mesmerized by the drop of water dripped down from Chuck’s damp hair. He could make out the collar bone, through the patch of wet shirt’s sticking to his son’s skin. _He’s gonna catch a cold one day!_ The way it sent his light head spinning…

     “When was the last time you sleep, dad?”

     He’s openly staring, chewing on his lip like a little kid. Like a predator on his prey.

     “Could use some food more.” – He didn’t, he wanted to sit there.

     Tenderness was never their thing. If he hadn’t known better, Herc would’ve wished he could be able to see the boy like this more often in their life. Yet he couldn’t seem to help himself.

     Chuck offered him buttered toast with vegemite. And the smell of fresh lemonade soothed the lingering hangover like a charm. They enjoyed the morning together in rare silence and peace. Every morning they got to spend with each other is rare, honestly. It felt like their past. But it’s probably a convenient breakfast. It’s too good to be called affection, too good for it to be true. Herc waited for it, for something promised to cut loose.

     “I enlisted the academy.”

     “Mechanic course?”

     The words were stuck in his throat ‘cause he could feel the answer coming. Through the splitting headache, Herc saw Chuck’s eyes were leveling him, calm yet intense.

     “As a cadet.” – His voice echoed in Herc’s nightmare.

     “… What?”

     “The Academy accepted me. I’ll start the first semester this July.”

     It took Herc a minute to fully understand what his boy was saying. Bitter coffee seared his throat. The terror burned down to his core.

     Every moment they spent with each other was a fight waiting to happen.

     “What the fuck did you do, Chuck?”

     He didn’t recognize the words on his tongue. Chuck was just watching him, like he’d seen this coming. The boy had been prepared. And there’s nothing Herc can do except let the family stubbornness gnaw at his soul.

     “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to-”

     “Sixteen.”

     “That’s still not old enough. But that’s not even the point.”

     The fear he’d tried to bury somewhere deep was rising up, making him ached for something physical, anything to do. He didn’t lose his wife to just going to see his son vanish into the flame someday. His boy was not going to be a soldier. His only family left was not going to die in a machine in the middle of the bloody ocean killing kaijus, at the age of God-fucking-knew-when.

     “You can’t say anything about this anyway Dad.”

     “I won’t pay the fee, Chuck.”

     “They give me total scholarship, and if you’re thinking about kicking me away, they have a place for cadets, free charge of food if you have family member has already been in the program.”

     The sound of spilled coffee completely drowned in his ringing heartache. His boy stood up straight as the instant Herc realized he had done the exact same thing. Herc walked pass the table, desperately tried to step into his son’s personal space, for the first time in years staying apart. Chuck took a step back for each step Herc took forward, until they both hit a wall. They were so close, Herc could feel their bodies shaking.

     “Why the hell do you even want to be a pilot, Chuck?”

 _Do you ever listen to me?_ He wanted screamed from the top of his lungs.

     “Because… why do you even care?”

     “What are you talking about? I am your father. I-”

     Chuck pushed back with the wavering Herc was too angry to see.

     “Then what do you want me to be?”

     “The fuck was that supposed to mean?” – Herc snarled.

     “Dad, _what_ do you want me to do?”

     The air between them was thick with Chuck’s heated scent, it filled up his head. His body’s weakening. The boy’s racing heartbeat was loud under his hand.

     “Chuck, it wasn’t your duty to-”

     “Oh, please! Cut the crap, dad…”

     Chuck had finally let go, it made him lost his balance. Herc leaned forward, felt like his knees might buckle, so close to crashing down, he could feel every breath on his skin. He’s the one with both arms against his son’s chest. Yet he felt like the one being suffocated, being pushed down. He jerked away, drawn in a lungful of heat. His heart sank, seeing Chuck set his jaw, fists clenched, bracing for the first punch from him that would never come.

     They were broken. They were both stuck in this loop, caught in this frozen moment that kept happening, again and again and again.

     It’s always comeback to this... This guilt. This resentment. His punishment. The boy’s revenge.

     He should’ve got more involved. But Herc had always been a coward, added more fuel to the fire burning their relationship. He hadn’t done anything other than fleeing from his son.

     “You’re not going the Jaeger Academy, Chuck. You’ll finish school like everybody else and then go to college. That’s it. One way or another, I’m not going to let you. End of discussion. That’s an order, you hear me?”

     The boy stared back at him. Those glistening eyes were blue fire burning his soul. – “Sure!”

     He should’ve done something. Say something, anything, before it’s too late. Herc wanted to say... If only everything didn’t turn into toxic in his mouth.

_You know I always love you, right?_

     Felt like another life, when he said it to his boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILERS ALERT!* This is in case my writing isn't clear enough, here's a quick sum of events of the next few chapters in the right order: Chuck was never okay with dad seeing Gabby. He went to the academy and Herc kept going back and forth with her. After Chuck became his copilot, they went through the Dance Demo and things got steamy between them. Herc tried not to think about Chuck by seeing other people. Chuck thought dad was abandoning him, he confronted dad a few times and one day he couldn't take it anymore. They fought as Chuck caught Herc going to Gabby's place. Chuck ran away and got attacked. He was almost dead. But Herc had left the woman, gone after him, found him bleeding and brought him to the hospital. Gabby was one of the nurse got called for the emergency. After his recovery, Chuck decided to completely ignore dad and his feeling. But his frustration showed in Operation Sun Down.


	5. Chapter 5

     Chuck really didn’t want to talk about the situation right now. He’s in a bad place, he could see that. But it’s his doing. So let’s just jump right into and get it over with already. Somewhere in his head, a voice needed to pop up and say ‘I told you so’ because this was just fucking ridiculously beside the point.

_What am I doing here?_ He thought he was supposed to be some sort of pilot, not a goddamn ballroom dancer.

     Chuck squinted, fighting the glinting sunlight carrying the color of champagne and expensive jewelry. But there was no flowers, no fancy dresses, no picturesque scenery. The room was a frame of dull metal, and every window on the wall, the glass ceiling was a vibrant blue. They stood in groups, with different uniforms. Chuck wore a gray shirt, combat trousers, with a pair of lace up boots. Standard military cargos. In the low humming noise, he was locked on by a man with piercing blue eyes.

     Why dancing, why all these people? And why this guy?

     Yes! Since it’s all about compatibility, let’s have a teenage boy partner up with a forty-ish year old man who clenched his fists like he wanted to choke him out to death with his bare hands. For sure, that would work brilliantly.

     “Remember, guys! It’s a dialog, not a fight.”

     At the front row, a man in pure black couture vest clapped like a proud mother, despite the deadpan expression on his face. He stood out from a bunch of suits with his hair slicked back, straight pleated trousers and an open v-neck for a champ. All eyes were on him because no homo. He’s the one who called the shot. And apparently, tango isn’t entertaining enough for them anymore. This must be bloody hilarious, Chuck bet. That guy paired him and the old man up together probably just for fun. _Fucking European!_ The fact a bunch of old military men let a dance instructor do whatever he felt, genuinely made Chuck questioned the power dynamic, reality itself and idea of ‘drift compatibility’.

     Whatever that was…

     Chuck blinked with confusion under his lids, tried to recall everything he had in his head about déjà vu, and fucking dancing. Gods knew he had behaved like a good boy. Chuck must’ve put up with all those dancing technicality mumbo jumbos and ‘it’s a love-hate relationship’ nonsense, since the military was all about discipline and shit, apparently. The belief of following the lead, following order and all of the sudden, the memo became adaptation and flexibility. Oh the look on his face when Adrian, the don’t-give-a-fuck instructor, announced his partner and their dance… Final test be like ‘forget what you’ve learnt ‘cause I’ll ask you to make shit up along the way’. Being the brightest student didn’t mean school could suck less by any chance.

     “You didn’t think life is going to be this boring, did you?” Adrian winked, said he’d had a special treat for his favorite pupil or something as sinister.

     When everyone in class had paired up except him, then he’s standing there alone on the dance floor, waiting for his partner to come, this was not what Chuck imagined.

_What in the hell is happening?_

     “You couldn’t be serious-” – A wrinkly man in uniform had the courage to speak among the noise buzzing the room.

     Adrian didn’t look that old, but he was definitely too young to dismiss a decorated officer like it was nothing. Simply a raised hand and everybody knew this only meant business. Chuck was more than clueless. But those men kept their mouths shut, and obeyed the dance instructor in a weird chain of command. The guy, his partner, nodded, stepped out from the group onto the dance floor, passed all the side glances of silent disapproval and curiosity. He recognized Chuck’s gaze, and immediately, the whole room turned into their personal battlefield.

     Chuck didn’t have the luxury to be ignorant about the storm had been stirring up in his heart. The idea of fighting alarmingly veiled something deep underneath. Longing. For interaction. For anything physical to do. The way he moved. The way those muscles shifted with precise roughness under the rigid fabric. The way he made him felt, like an urge to grab and shake him and push him down that came out of nowhere. They’re both good at smashing things up, he could see it. All the cruel edges just then made the grace stood out even more, it made him sick. For a moment, Chuck thought he saw himself looked back, as standing in front of a broken mirror. Chuck was invisible, he didn’t exist in this man’s beautiful eyes.

     That carefully hidden tenderness in the blue wasn’t for him, he reckoned. The young boy in him wondered why he even cared, why his chest stung, being ignored by a man he hadn’t even talked to.

     The lines gradually came into focus as they went closer. Under the spotlight, their surrounding had faded into something unimportant, left them lonely with the gazes that dug a hole in each other’s soul. There’s something oddly familiar about this stranger. An answer Chuck believed he should knew, as obvious and simple, as a thought had already been in his mind. Like how he’s sure this ‘conversation’ would probably turn into a messy tangle of limbs. They’d better not though. Because Chuck really needed this. More than figured out that expression on the old man’s face.

     They said fear was just excitement in another form. Chuck tried to calm himself down. It was nothing. He was nothing.

     The voices bubbled up in the room and somebody was calling him a jerk with issues. Chuck seemed to be used to that. Whatever… If it’s a dialog then the guy better put up with the sass. ‘cause he ain’t fuckin’ hold back for anyone. Not his fault if the uptight ancient bastard couldn’t keep up. Not his fault if the test failed and they ended up in an artless brawl.

     Their eyes glued to each other. The music started and his heart danced along with the beat. Chuck watched his partner taking off the cufflinks, loosening his tie.

_Fine! Let’s fucking talk then._

     With a harsh emptiness pulsing in his veins, he approached, like a moth in front of the flame.

     Three and a half minutes, no less than one hundred moves, and sixty percent max of moving in tight frame, which involved close contact in the pelvis and upper thighs. Chuck calculated the situation, reminded himself that he could do this. He’d danced with other people before. No big deal. The moment the guy decided to engage, Chuck stepped back, for each step he took towards him. Something snapped and Chuck couldn’t even see it coming.

     A current of electricity flashed through his head. He was looking for someone on his right. Didn’t think the bastard was this fucking quick. Chuck was grabbed by the collar, pulled into something too much for a standard ‘close embrace’, so close he could feel the heat from the body spread to his, wakening the same fire that’s trying to get lose under his skin. A hand was ghostly on his waist and Chuck pushed back, heart’s beating undeniably out of rhythm. The guy let go before Chuck’s shirt was ripped open.

     Excitement was another form of fear…

     When he stopped, to let the uniform jacket slid off his impressive shoulders, Chuck turned around fast, head spinning.

     He’s not going to give up. He’s definitely not running away.

     Chuck felt the guy came up to him from behind, before he could even forget the stranger’s heartbeat on his hand. It was less brutal this time. His partner seemed to get the right idea. He flowed to him, wrapped around him like the ocean, and together their hips swayed side to side. Chuck spun around, unconsciously following the lead. They were both watching the distance between them.

     At some point, somebody started counting.

     After each break, pivot and turn, they came back to the ‘open position’ with legs intertwined, from movement to movement to match the music. The guy parted, stood beside him and for some reason, they move like the other, a series of complex foodworks, resembled to every snatching and striking. They were good. Decent. However people might’ve seen, at least to Chuck, they were dancing. When they were hands in hands again, their bodies emphasized, flowed together, melting into the other like they’re meant to. And that relentless gaze kept working its way into Chuck’s skin. They challenged their partner with a sudden dip, a quick kick, a sharp stop, and then quickening. An on- and off-beat rhythm, keeping up the pace. Nothing slipped like a synchronized combination. A frustratingly unsatisfied complication to both of them.

     One minute and twenty one second.

     That unnamed anger was building like acid eating at his core. An unexpected knee nudged up between Chuck’s legs. And desire burst into flame, so wrong he didn’t even know where to begin. The old man whispered something in his ear, low and confusing.

     “You are better than this. We are better than this.”

     Chuck realized he was panting. _The fuck was that supposed to mean?_

     He thought he saw Adrian with a devious smirk on his face, when the guy swept him up from his feet and everything was out of control.

     The music didn’t change, and the world around them slowed down to a pause.

     Chuck opened his eyes. He saw stars, and every sense was overwhelmed by his partner. The gap between them barely meant something. One hand on his hip when their bodies were rolling, circling around, ass to groin. One hand slid on his inner thigh, lifted up his imaginary skirt. Chuck shuddered, with every hoarse, heavy breath caressing his tingling skin. The biceps bulged, when those hands lightly brushed his nipple, snaked its way up on his chest, his throat, guided his chin to turn around, for a kiss that would never happen.

_Oh, fuck you old man._

     Chuck arched his back, the fabric rubbing his ass provokingly. Because he’s not gonna fucking beg, even if he had waited for this dance. He had his arm back to grasp his partner’s nape, head rested on the broad shoulder. Not sure how long he could play it this way when the guy filled him up, set fire to his body. The sudden grip on Chuck’s wrist was tight as steel. They were face to face. He had his arm wrapped around the guy’s neck before he even knew what was going on. One hand’s still holding him, the other hand slammed Chuck’s body crashed against his. Their moves turned hot and dirty so quick, it tore him apart with delicious pain.

     Their dog tags tangled together, and that knot in his throat kept growing.

_Oh god…!_

     Chuck leaned his head back, let the guy bury his face in the curve of his exposed neck. All the urge to fight, the frustration twisted into a sick need to be cared, to have the attention he didn’t know that he’d craved.

     A puff of air scorched wet heat when his lips parted. And Chuck’s skin was burned with his breaths, his stubble. The heat in those hands started roaming his back, spread further down the curve of Chuck’s waist line. He was melted into the touch. He traced the jawline, the chest, and the guy reached up, lace the finger together like they’d done this a thousand times.

     Chuck bit his lips, swallowed down a string of curses and embarrassing whines.

     One hand idly rested on the small of his back was nowhere near enough. Chuck pushed his hip into something close to a plea. His head exploded with pleasure, feeling the hand kneading his ass, wondering why they could even dance with his weakened knees. Their bodies slid into a perfect fit. Foreheads rested against each other, even their minds could be connected. Their dance had become something else. They were unwound, hips swaying in the rhythm. Chuck let go, let himself being claimed, being pushed around.

     His eyes closed for a moment… Remembered he didn’t even know the guy’s name. It felt so wrong but so right, being in his embrace, while the whole world was blurry around them. Like it’s just the two of them in this dreamscape, without identities, duties, responsibility. He didn’t even care, if dreams weren’t supposed to last forever…

_I’m losing my mind._

     A flash of explosion set everything on edge. Chuck needed something to hold him back now. This sick hot desire in his chest was killing him. _Please!_ The ringing in his ears, the poisonous blue like salt and acid pouring in to his mouth. He was choked by the scorching bright heat. ‘Cause in a dark corner of his mind, he had the right word to say.

_Daddy!_

_‘Please, daddy… I need you. I’ll obey. Please, don’t leave me!’_

     Those eyes were painfully blue. They were glowing as magic. Like they were out of this world. Chuck was staring at the sky, where it blended the horizon to reach the freezing ocean that was so close but so far. He was so lost, in this color of loneliness and agony. Chuck couldn’t remember his own name, couldn’t recognize the person that he was. He couldn’t tell what’s real and what wasn’t anymore.

     “Thank you, gentlemen! I think we all got what we need to know.”

     It was an illusion. The ocean was never touched by the sky. But Chuck didn’t stop seeing blue. He thought he was going mad, because of the look on dad’s face. That dangerous look he gave, like he also didn’t want this to end.

     In his nightmare, Chuck dreamed about falling for somebody. He wanted to cry, counting the moment dad had looked at his way.

     He had thought they were in love. But he just had dreamed about being with Hercules Hansen.


	6. Chapter 6

     It has taken him five months and twenty six days, but Herc finally get to see Chuck for the first time. Thirty minutes by his son’s bed was barely enough, to feel relief, to pour all his tears out, to realize everyone was watching him. So he did punch a guy, and demanded for daily visit or he’d quit. And they could disapprove of his behavior all they want, but no one would risk him putting an end to the dying Jaeger Program. Even he is weak like this, he can take them all down if they dare to think about stand between him and his baby.

     “You look better, Herc.”

     “Yeah?” – He casually avoids Tendo’s face.

     The guy is too busy laughing with a bunch of limes on his hands to recognize the unusual shade of pink on Herc’s skin.

     “Oh man. I know you were there but you should have looked at their faces.”

     His heart beats fast, when Tendo rambling something about him being a prince came to rescue his sleeping beauty. Herc doesn’t say anything, Knowing Tendo’s sense of humor is inappropriate that way, he just let it slide. Thank god he can bury his face in the coffee. Thinking about last night is not a good thing to do in the middle of the day. It was, different. Sure, he could say that. It was his restless mind actually got some sleep, that’s all. Herc gulps down the burning liquid as hard as he tries to press down the jitter. People don’t need to see him act like a deer in the head light.

     The doctors told him a day beforehand, and he pretty much spent all that time preparing himself. He thought he was okay, until the moment Tendo had to hold his arm ‘cause Herc couldn’t even stand. The world faded into a haze, when he saw Chuck’s chest falling and rising with all kinds of tubes and wires connected him to some machines. Time had stopped or kept go on without them, Herc didn’t care much about anything other than his son. He still doesn’t. So Tendo can laugh as much as he wants, recalling the time he stood there and watched how it took four guys to stop Herc jumping those wrinkling old men and their boys. Chuck is here now. That’s all that matter to him.

     “Man, I didn’t know you can do that.”

     Neither did he. How on earth could he know he’s capable, of behaving like he did, or crying, feeling hope again. Herc got to see Chuck and touch his heartbreakingly cold skin. have him again in his arms. That happiness makes him dizzy. He could never forget it, but he certainly didn’t remember how good it could make him feel.

     “I can’t wait to tell Chuck about this.”

     “You do that and see what’ll happen.” – His throat’s sore from the amount of coffee he’s drank.

     Tendo couldn’t even care less. The guy winks, as if Herc isn’t ashamed enough of recalling he is supposed to be too old, and too… _him_ , to hold his adult son. He does try to narrow his eyes at Tendo, but honestly Herc just can’t help himself.

     He didn’t want to grin like an idiot, thinking about kissing Chuck on his baby cheeks. It’s too soon to say anything. Chuck looked good, much better than Herc’s perturbed imagination. And he was peaceful, the way he relaxed when there’s nothing to worry, he was just sleeping, knowing their war is over for real. Yet Herc can’t be at ease.  Who knows why they’re keeping him from his son, what they haven’t told him. Even dreams can be horrifying sometimes. Herc sighs, wonders what is going on in his head. Does Chuck… dream about him?

     From across the table, Tendo pushes a lime rolling in his direction. Herc catches it, and he gotta appreciate those little things they do for him. He and Billie, they distract him without asking for anything. All the _‘take care’_ , _‘I’m so sorry for what happened’_ or _‘it’s going to be okay’_ , they can put too much attention on him. And people’s compassion makes his fear too real. Herc likes hanging with his friend, and the little girl, and Max, that they don’t stare and he can brood in silence around them. It does leave him a touch of sorrow, the way Tendo cares for Billie. The regret he has, watching Tendo carefully spoon the sugar as if one too many grain can ruin the whole jar of fresh drink for his baby girl. Chuck used to love this, too. The funny lemongrass and cinnamon flavor with a hint of the East, that Angie just couldn’t stop complaining about Herc spoiling him with lemonade and sorbet and ice-cream. Herc is amazed that Tendo could still find a place where lotus grow. The guy was so close to crying, when Billie did seriously consider learning preserving flowers and making tea like her grandma. Their love soothes his ache. Herc needs it, more than some strangers make him talk about how he’s doing. Besides, he definitely doesn’t want to miss Tendo’s smug face like there’s nothing in this world can touch him.

     “Just so you know… If anything wants to happen to me, it’ll have to deal with Billie first.” – His friend speaks softly.

     “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

     They watch the dried flower gracefully comes back to life, showing its petals in a mesmerizing dance. In the water, they are almost translucent, and as delicate as finest chiffon. _‘The symbol of enlightenment’_ , Tendo told him once.

     “What can I say, she’s a fighter. I’m so fucking proud she’s already better than me.”

     There’s a familiar pensiveness Herc thinks he recognize in Tendo’s words.

     “Enjoy it while it lasts, mate. Wait until she becomes teenager.”

     “I know. She probably would rebel and want to be a banker, do financing shit or something. Then I’ll be lonely forever with a bag of lime.”

     Yeah… Perhaps that’s just life. Our children are always better than us. They grow strong, and beautiful, and brilliant. To correct their parents’ mistakes, to survive all the failures and tragedies. To someday, don’t need their parents anymore. Chuck used to cling to him for protection, for attention, ‘til one day he just stopped. Because his baby didn’t need him or because Herc was just toxic, he can’t tell. The day Herc had to push his own son away, it was too soon. But perhaps it’s for the best. It was too late for Herc, when Chuck’s touch turned into fire on his skin.

     “Were you guys close, before… y’ know?”

     He collects his heart and tries to put it back in its rib cage. _He meant Scissure_ , Herc told himself.

     “Well, Chuck learnt how to arm bar from me when he was six. And we did have some quality times in his principal’s office whenever I was on leave.”

     “Jeez, even the attitudes are matching.”

     “Those stupid brats thought he was an easy target…” _Since my boy pretty much grew up without a father. Even Scott was the one that presented, when Chuck was born._

     He didn’t say anything, when Tendo turned and he let out a broken chuckle.

     Herc Hansen never knew whether to give him a hug or a kick in the arse, but he always knows how damn proud he is of his son. Maybe it’s his fault, didn’t care much about the-right-thing-to-do is just one in a string of mistakes. Father and son don’t have bonding experiences over beating other kids, the way they did, among other things. First time he bought Chuck lemonade, they took a walk in the park, and Herc watched him broke that kid’s arm like how he showed him earlier. They visited this little Vietnamese bistro at the corner. All his doubts melted under the sun, when Chuck had smiled, caught Herc hiding a smirk on his face.

     “It was the first time he smiled at me.”

     He can never forget Chuck’s beautiful face. Barely ten and he already knew how to break his old man’s heart, gave him something to be longing to go home. It was the worst, he thought he had used to be far away from his love ones.

     “Feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” – Tendo says. – “I’ll do anything just to see my little princess smile.”

     He nods. No one touches his Chuck, Herc’d die make sure of it. Especially from now on, his boy can break any arm that dares to hurt him. Maybe Chuck still loves lemonade, Herc doesn’t know. They can’t go back to the place that used to be his home. But there’s a place perhaps he could take him if they visit downtown. When Chuck’s awake. … If Chuck ever wants him in his life. 

     “Hey, we’re gonna take a hike this weekend. You wanna come?”

     A knife was pulled out of his hand. ‘Cause clearly they got enough lime.

     “Oh, sorry.” – Herc snaps out of his thoughts. – “I have to see Gabby…”

     There was a second he kind of regretted telling Tendo. It’d be awkward, if his friend had started on the usual ‘girlfriend talks’, offering all kinds of shit from the life as an invisible lady killer back in the day. Tendo goes silent, with a chopstick in his hand poking the flower petals. Apparently, fatherhood can change anyone. The guy doesn’t care, or there’s nothing to talk about. ‘Cause there isn’t. Herc’s just hoping, Gabby can tell him something about Chuck’s condition. They were… friends, maybe she’ll let him know.

     “There’s a hidden lake upon Liu To Shan. The locals say it’s sacred, the water can wash away your worries, make your wish come true. I’ll pray for you and your boy when we get there.”

     “Thanks. It means a lot.” – Herc waits for him to continue.

     “Maybe sometimes you and Chuck can go there.”

     Tendo smiles at Herc, and puts a little dried lotus bud in his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

     There's always something kinda funny, about hearing one's own heartbeat. He swore he could have laughed, since the last time Chuck'd had the chance to feel the crunches of dried leaves under his feet was like a lifetime ago.

     He knew he needed this. He knew he was calm. Even though the mind numbing sight of trees and bushes was just on and on, stretched for forever under the vibrant blue sky. At least the air was as real as it can be... Or as he'd imagined it could be. So crisp, and clean, so high and far away from the sea, just... up and above. Only for him to hear the sound of his own heart sung how quite and lonely it was.

     Chuck was running in the forest. He was chased by someone. Or he was chasing something.

     He thought he'd said he did want this. Knowing what's needed to be done. But what exactly was he doing... with the voice in his mind telling him to run?

 _Does it matter?_ He’s lost. He’d hunt or get killed. If he didn’t know what the right thing to do is, then perhaps he should just defend himself.

     Out of the sudden, something appeared from behind the bush and wrestled him to the ground. A blur. A faceless man. Chuck gave him a broken leg as warning. And his attacker didn’t even stop trying to choke him. He fought loose of his arm and reached for the guy’s knife. When he felt the black out’s coming… One stab to the kidney and one final cut across the throat. He heard a gun cocking. Chuck swung the dead body for shielding, and the knife stuck to the gunman’s head without missing a beat. His heart was pumping like a blowing adrenaline factory. It was good. He needed guns. Chuck needed distance, a wall. Anything. A defense mechanism for himself.

_Engaging. One hour before sun down._

     The cold was bone chilling.

_Make this quick._

     Somewhere in his brain, he heard thoughts, things even he’s not sure if they were his or someone else.

     Chuck picked up their weapons. Gun, garrote wire, smoke bomb, grenade… He was calm, Chuck could see it himself. After he finished attaching knives to his boot, Chuck began searching for some type of maps or com. _Information_. These guys were armed. The pros were hunting him. Chuck wanted to wipe the paint off his face.

     Bodies after bodies, blood and sweat were washing out the camouflage on his skin. Chuck didn’t remember putting it there, to be honest. He’s not one of them. In the beginning, he had nothing on him, not even a standard kevlar. How many were out there? When was this going to end? How long had it began?

     Then he heard people shouting in the distance. Somebody else was out there too, Chuck could feel it. It’s too loud. He’s exposing himself. Chuck ran towards the sound of blazing guns, like a moth hearing the call of its burning flame.

     Another group of men he had to put down. Chuck was tired. He was desperate, pulling the knife out from between his victim’s eyes. He noticed something. The sky was a vibrant blue. Chuck blinked and his mind was tingling from danger and sunlight. He thought he saw a rabbit.

     But somebody was here.

     Chuck turned around quick. He saw a face. A familiar face. His trigger finger was more than ready. It was smoke, Chuck wanted to scream. It’s not tears in his burning eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter's a little bit weird. I had a difficult time writing this one. Yeesh.
> 
> And again, fuck science.

     “Thanks for the coffee, Gabby.”

     “Oh, I’m just glad you are finally here.” – Her red lips curve into a smile. Gabrielle can’t help but feeling satisfied, with the anticipation of putting her expensive black lingerie to good use.

     Gabrielle Meadow is not an ordinary woman. No, she didn’t get to be where she is right now for being average or mediocre. She knows what she wants, and she’ll always get what she wants, no matter how hard it seems.

     People say it is wrong to fall for a married man. But she believes in God and God will always answer to a good Christian prayer like herself. He had left her in suffering, but God would never make her sin. She waited and it was too long waiting for him to cleanse the Earth with the kaiju war, to call his Angela back to heaven. When the world is free from the sins, and sickness, her man is finally also free.

_“Well, I have something after, but guess I could sit with you for a second.”_ Patience with man is love, patience with god is faith. And Gabrielle knows her reward has finally come.

     “How are you feeling now?”

     “I’m good.”

     Hercules Hansen has changed since the last time they saw each other. It makes her speechless, to be honest, and don’t know how to talk to him anymore.

     Isn’t that gorgeous, when some man just aged like fine wine? Gabrielle fights the urge to fan herself. His voice alone is already enough… Makes her just want to get into it, completely wreck him.

     “You’re losing weight, Herc. God, your skin used to look better…”

     She got to touch his cheeks before he gets shy again. He jerks away and Gabrielle hates it when her man does that, when those eyes are not looking at her. _Be patient,_ she reminds herself. She can’t let her eager ruin this.

     “You need someone to take care of you.”

     Consistence can get her anywhere.

     “Gabby.... I'm not made for that.”

     “For what? Love? You're not made for love?”

     This man is driving her crazy.

     A man like him should have someone like her by his side. A good woman, who can give him a real family with well-educated children.

_Your marriage was a failure._ Gabrielle tries to get his attention. – “You don't take care of yourself.”

     She knew they had fights. Their child grew up and the arguments got more aggressive with time. Nobody knew but Angie told her. Their kid was the stumbling block. If Scissure hadn’t happened, they’d had a divorced right after he got to college anyway.

     Oh her poor man. Gabrielle leans in close. He just needs her to show him a real good time.

     “It's not right.” – Herc says, a whisper that seared a hole in her brain.

_God! This again…_ Gabrielle sighs. Her man is still mourning the dead woman that had stop loving him for many years.

     “Is that what you think? That what we did together was a sin? That we transgressed?” – Why he keeps trying to lie that he’s still in love with her?

     “No. That's not what I think. Gabby. And we didn’t do anything.”

     A flicker of memories sparks the hidden anger in Gabrielle. She remembers it now. His little brat got in her way, many times, especially when the mother had died. One night, he even made Herc chase after him in the rain like they were in a soap opera. But she shouldn’t be angry. Because the last time Chuck tried to stop them, he failed. They went back to her place, and the kid had his lesson learnt that night, outside some bar. Multiple stabbed wounds and a fever that made him slip in and out of consciousness, couldn’t stop mumbling about ‘Shakespearean actress’ and different shades of blue. Her heart had almost broke when she thought her man had denied her, left her alone to be with that bastard again. But the phone brought her the good news, she was called for an emergency. It was a challenge, treating the boy, but she couldn’t risk the hospital’s gossip community. She kept being virtuous. Because since then, she knew God always loves her.

     Oh… but how long is he going to make her wait?

     “I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

     She reaches out for his hand. – “Perhaps I can check…”

     “Please. Gabby.”

     She tries not to feel stung when he pulls away from her touch. Gabrielle thinks she might break into tears. She loves his man for everything, but why does he has to be so stubborn? Why hasn’t Herc given in like other men in her life?

     “It's just...” – He just doesn’t let her take care of him.

     “I know. I know. Right now, I just care about Chuck.”

     The brat hasn’t dead for real and his ghost has already haunted her.

     Gabrielle pulls back and takes the first sip of her cold coffee. She fights the urge to get on her knees right this moment. She prays to God for more strength. She treated the boy once, she can do it again. He’s a good kid like his father. Chuck is as beautiful as her man, that she can’t deny. So she told herself, she would love him like her own child, when she becomes the woman at his father’s side. _Remember_ , she is merciful. Gabrielle takes a deep breath and checks her collar, to make sure Herc has a glimpse inside.

     “Why are they not letting me see my son?”

     “He’s still fragile, Herc. We’re trying our best to bring him out of hibernation safely but it’s a tricky and long process. He could be shocked, and have infections, brain and tissues damage. But more important, we can’t risk you having radiation exposure.”

     “You mean, Chuck has…”

     Of course, there is a price when you don’t follow God’s call.

     And that Newt guy deserves Hell as much as his partner for playing with the almighty power and meddling with the Lord’s plan. The kid was close to dead, when those two decided to shoot him with a serum made from kaijus’ spliced DNA. Their designed reptilian cocktail was a miracle, she must say. They saved him, but also killing him slowly. By the time his regenerating process is complete, his human body would be exhausted, and one day it would break down from all the toxic that had been built up from radiation exposure. The kid’s lucky if he can make it after sixty.

     “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t tell you this.” – It breaks her heart to see Herc cry.

     “No, no… I… “

     God forgives her but her patience is running out. Gabrielle can’t help herself. She can’t find fault in him dying. Chuck was a soldier, a war hero. He agreed with this fate when he chose to be a pilot. He would die for what he believes. And if the kid survives, forty year more is already a big charity. And her man… Gabrielle and he would already have a happy life with each other by the time the poison breaks down his kid. He should have got over this already. If… when, he’s awake, Chuck will have his own woman, a family. She’ll make sure of it. She’s here with Herc now. Her man shouldn’t be crying.

     “You really love your kid, don’t you, Herc?”

     “He’s my boy. He’s the only one I got left.”

_Oh my God!_ This… thing between them, it is suffocating her. She needs to talk some sense to him before it’s too late.

     “Nonsense. You still have Scott. You still have me. Don’t get to close to your son, Herc. The devil will make you sin.”

     Herc darts his eyes towards her.

     “I know the way you look at your boy.”

     “And you know this how?”

     Gabrielle wants to calm him. She doesn’t need him denying, or a silent confession to confirm.

     A woman knows what’s going on with her man. It was a dawning sense of horror when she recognized it. She wondered how she didn’t see it before. When they win the war, her man mourned his son the way a woman mourns her husband, the way a man mourned his dead lover. She tried to forget, wouldn’t entertain the thought ‘cause she didn’t want to bring him such dishonor. She reached out many times. But there’s more pain surrounds him then than when Angie died. She used to think the built up grief from his tragedies was natural, until one day it has become dangerous and that she couldn’t deny any longer.

     She should not blame him. Gabrielle doesn’t blame him because she is merciful. And they were just confused. Who wouldn’t, when the little bastard cling to him like that? Herc is too beautiful and Chuck was just as beautiful as him, in a different way. Not to mention that devil has his own way with her man. It’s not Herc’s fault. No. She forgives him, she will always.

     “I'm worried about you. But I’m sure you guys have changed. Right? You look much better now. You…”

     “Mm-hm. Nice.” – Herc goes pale as if he might be sick.

     “And Chuck had healed wonderfully. I mean...” – She stands up to chase after him.

     “Yes. Really wonderful. Now stop.”

      “And I heard about your demonstration in the beginning. You remember ‘Operation Sun Down’?”

     She needs to remind him to stay away from the evil. Twenty minutes, that’s all it took for him to find Herc in The Grand Maze. The kid started with nothing and an entire forty soldier platoon was wiped clean by him alone. Chuck was sixteen, freshly recovered from his previous ‘injury’. They said he had emptied the clip towards his own father’s direction, to save their lives and end the simulation in record time. But she knew he was angry. She knew whom those bullets were meant for.

     “Yes.”

     “Well, I heard the board was really satisfied with your performances also. They said you and Chuck were definitely made for Striker, for each other. But you weren’t yourself.”

     “Gabby.” – Herc runs down an empty staircase and following him is making her dizzy.

     “It even showed earlier in the Dance-Compatibility Demonstration.” – She tries to speak between gasps. – “I know you didn’t want to touch your son that way. You were just adjusting to match him like you always do.”

     “Leave me alone.”

     Herc shouted at her. He went savage. Like an animal with rabid. His shoulders are tense with restrained fury.

     Perhaps she has pushed it too son. Gabrielle is shocked. She has never saw him bares his teeth at her. Herc is furious. His grip is hard on her arms, he swings her out of his way as if she is nothing.

     “I just want to...”

     He snarls.

     “I know what you want, Gabrielle! And I cannot bear your concern any longer. You. Your… constant hovering. Your neediness. You, are the reminder of my failures and the worst things of my life. You want something from me that I never was and never will be.”

     “Don't make me do this, Herc 'cause I...”

     “Gabby, Gabby…” – He hushes. – “Pull yourself together. Okay? Look at yourself.”

     She burst into tears.

     “I despise you. I despise what you want to bring out in me. Your concerns are petty. You are poison…”

     His words scar her like a thousand daggers.

     But life is suffering. She cannot harbor hatred when her chance, her reward is so close. She’s patient, she’s righteous, she’s merciful.

     Gabrielle does not blame her man. She will take care of his boy. She’ll do the right thing to fix Chuck Hansen. And Hercules will thank her later. He’ll see. Gabrielle will show them,


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

     It's sure as hell not the first. It wasn't even the twenty fifth time, they made him make a fool out of himself.

     “Where did you go, dad?”

     He had no idea what exactly he's trying to do. They had walked past him like he didn’t even exist in those blue eyes.

     “Did you even take a look at yourself? What the hell happened to you?”

     Chuck swatted away dad’s hand. He was too broken, to be in awe by the concern he rarely got to hear in his voice. The alcohol might have something to do about it, but the lingering perfume on Herc’s body made him sick to his core.

     “I fought some guys. What did you do, dad?”

     There’s no way in hell Chuck would do something as lame as following this man. Tenderness was never their thing. Dad’s affection was never meant for him.  It wasn’t tears in his eyes, when he’d caught them kissed in a café.

     “None of your business, boy.”

     The woman looked exactly like mom.

     He wanted to throw up. The brawl he had had barely did anything to calm his anger. And this pain, it cut even deeper.

     Chuck felt like a pathetic child when dad left him to drown in his cold blue eyes.

     Should he be ashamed? Should he loathe this longing that he couldn’t explain inside his mind? Chuck had thought he was used to dad’s absence and harshness. He had thought it was just going to be another lonely night, like most days of his life. Chuck was tired. Tired of staring at the door waiting, tired of wanting to run away and end this, of wandering unfamiliar places, giving in to his instinct, and finding Herc at some corner of the street with somebody to avoid going home. He’s not a child anymore. He’s supposed to have his own life. Chuck shouldn’t need his father desperately this way.

     They fought almost every time they were together. At home, at the academy, on the Kwoon mat at Shatterdome... He didn’t even care, as long as dad was watching him. Stick or fist, physically or verbally, Chuck knew he had been lying to himself, that in those moments, he was visible in his father’s eyes. They were going nowhere. They were both good at smashing things up. And Chuck’s hands were just itched from wanting to hit the man again.

     “Did you see Gabby?”

     “We did talk.”

     “You’ve been seeing each other?”

     “We were just friends, Chuck.”

     “So you slept with her, then?”

     They must have done this for too many times, Chuck had lost his count. Had he gone mad with torment and hopelessness? How long did it take for dad to make them have this conversation once more? They were stuck in a loop. A frustration that kept going back, again and again and again. Last time, Chuck thought he’d had his attention… The kind of despair he was so afraid to admit. That Chuck missed him, wanted Herc to care so bad he would do anything, to the point his mind was dying.

     There was a time, Chuck thought he had been doing these kinds of thing for his mom.

     “Cut the crap, dad.”

     He spat out those words. The liquid courage was making him reckless. He didn’t care, thinking dad might actually hit him for real this time.

     “Who are you to talk to me about this?”

     Dad whispered thunders in his ears. They stood in each other’s space, glaring tension, and the distance that stretched between their bodies was driving his head spinning.

     He bit his lips, couldn’t bear the thought of somebody else warming Herc’s bed. He had been belonged to dad, always, in any way dad would have him. He was his father’s son more than he was called by his own name. But Chuck was just a wave trying to reach the sky. It was wrong, having this kind of desire dancing in his mind. He got no claim over Herc. Chuck had no right to say otherwise.

     “I’m your son. Isn’t it good enough?”

     He couldn’t stop the misery seeping out through his skin.

     “I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

     “What else do I need to be, dad? What else do you want me to be?”

     His heart, the broken pieces in him refused him his dignity. Chuck craved for how dad used to hold him, how he used to think that nothing could frighten him, and the fear of losing this man hadn’t consumed his soul. The silence brought more pain than their fights. But something else was bubbling up. Something much more terrified, that could make him get on his knees and do anything dad said, be anything Herc wanted him to be. Chuck called for him, with the panic of realizing why Herc might disappear on him again.

_‘Daddy!_

_I need you. I’ll obey. Please, don’t leave me!’_

     Only this time, the bitterness died on his throat. Not because he was strong. Chuck was sick from swallowing down this toxic, dangerous feeling. He was not going to play this never ending game.

     A linger in dad’s hands that Chuck willing to risk, before dad pulled away with a gasp and horror filling his eyes. They had been a breath away from each other’s lips. A bet that would cost him everything.

     “You are better than this. We are better than this.”

     Dad was drunk, as if he’d had a taste of alcohol from his tongue.

     “Go home with me, dad.”

     “Angela is gone, Chuck. Your mom is gone.”

    And it had been his fault, that dad was now burdened with a child who couldn’t learn how to be his son.

     He didn’t want to cry. Chuck swore he'd tried. But something else must have shown, because dad had almost reached out. He ran a hand over his face. Those words, his whisper, they had just snapped Chuck to pieces. He wanted to go home, his real home.

     It’s never enough, he would never be enough, no matter what he did, no matter what he tried to be. Chuck would always be his father’s child, the last thing to remind him of his wife. Nothing more. He wasn’t meant to be saved. The boy who wished he was the one had ended up in the flame instead of mom. It was too late for Chuck to do something, almost a lifetime too late. It’s too late, to wait for dad to say anything.

     “You know I’ll always love you, right?”

     He was shattered in dad’s calloused hands. _Yeah…_ Like he really cared, like those words actually meant something.

     Chuck had had enough of this shit. This shame, this guilt, his punishment. This bleeding love that kept burning him alive he just couldn’t take it anymore. It ripped away his skin, bit by bit, left him naked and raw. That moment Chuck swore, he would rather die than ever admit to himself he was in love with Hercules Hansen.

     It had never been easier to fight free of this man’s iron grip. He smirked, like his lips had never begged. Like he hadn’t just lost everything for an illusion would never belong to him.

     “Have fun, old man.”

      The woman was still waiting for him. Chuck walked out in the rain. He wondered, if it’s okay to just melt into the water and disappear.

 

\---------

 

      Since he thought he had lost his son to the war, Herc has had trouble sleeping. ‘til one day, he suddenly felt much better. He awakes clear-headed, and immediately set about his tasks the way he had always done. That’s the moment he starts to fear when the sleep comes at night.

      Max is still Max. He has stopped sniffing around and behaved better. He’s getting fat with little Billie’s treats and jello. Things have been ordinary as it can be. At night, Max even snores. Like he knows Chuck is back and just a walk away. As if he wasn’t ever gone. Almost to a point he doesn’t care, if Chuck’s physical present matters.

      Herc lies in bed, his own bed, alone like how he has been most of life.

      He dreams of blue, a vivid vibrant blue dulled with silence and constant motion. It feels like the Drift. Not Scott, not Stacker, not any of his co-pilots or someone else. It only feels like his son. Herc doesn’t dare to think it might have been a sign. Has he lost in the Drift too? Is his son lost in this violent ocean, drowning in the lonely rushing blue?

      Herc tries to picture Chuck’s eyes, the blue abyss cold with distance and as fire to his touch. One day will come, when he won’t be able to make clear the shade of them anymore. Long ago, he has already forgotten the sound of his laughter. They used to be innocent, carefree and easy as he spent his golden days under the sun. At least, he thinks. Now everything is just a raw and numbing haze that slips fast through his hands. This emptiness, it is growing, filling his mind with things he cannot make sense of. And Herc will slowly go crazy, ignoring the dreams about lying by Chuck’s side, lying with his son.

      There will be no word left to say. Because he doesn’t need to, care to, or know what to say anymore. Nobody was supposed to know his weariness, his anger. They were the veil to the secret that could have betrayed him. And all that has remained in Herc, is sparks of ideas, broken shuffling pieces, glimpse of thing he could not explain. Herc lies in the luring darkness, a recognized frustrated hand run through his hair. Their past is melting, disappearing from his mind like a disease.

      Perhaps it’ll fade, too. The delusion. The illusive phantom touch and the taste of his son’s lips, his skin, his tears. The blank one day will stay being the void in him forever, when Herc, eventually, will move on.

      It’s a chilling night with howling winds and rains in Hong Kong. The ocean is rising, since storm season stirs waves and spirals, after a peaceful sleep under the clear cerulean sky. They always come at night. After the sun’s beautiful suffocating heat, the heartless storms always come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my writing isn't clear enough, here's a quick recap: Chuck was never okay with dad seeing Gabby. He went to the academy and Herc kept going back and forth with her. After Chuck became his copilot, they went through the Dance Demo and things got steamy between them. Herc tried not to think about Chuck by seeing other people. Chuck thought dad was abandoning him, he confronted dad a few times and one day he couldn't take it anymore. They fought as Chuck caught Herc going to Gabby's place. Chuck ran away and got attacked. He was almost dead. But Herc had left the woman, gone after him and brought him to the hospital. Gabby was one of the nurse got called for the emergency. After his recovery, Chuck decided to completely ignore dad and his feeling. But his frustration showed in Operation Sun Down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herc has always connected to Chuck. He's starting to realize it, that they share dreams. And at night, the dreams about their past sometimes bled through their dreams about being together.

     “We’ve been through this before, haven’t we?”

     He put his shoes to the side and stepped into the mat. Chuck couldn’t let it unnoticed, how dad gave him a glance, the moment they walked past one another. Around them, people were watching.

     ”I thought… we had already been here.”

     They turned their backs and faced each other. He was calmed and still, when he held his ground as the staff stopped inches away from his face. They were openly staring without a blink, the weapon held fast in their white knuckle grips. It was artless, graceless, raw and fierce and gritty.

     One step forward for each step back.

     “And yet, here we are…” – Those eyes were blue and distant like they weren’t even trying.

     At some point, somebody had started counting.

 

\---------

 

     His feet were hurt and his whole body was exhausted. When he had crossed the line, Chuck hadn’t thought this was how things were going to turn out.

     That night, Chuck couldn’t careless, that he had forgot his shoes, and hat, and jacket, running away after their fight. This was going to be the end for him. The pain stirred in his heart. Because he was left alone like he had always been. It’s good, though. It’s better this way. Dad wasn’t home with him.

     How long had he been doing this? Chuck asked himself, how many times he had tried to think, while staying on his knees, letting the steamy water burn his throat, caress his aching skin. Chuck had touched himself every way he could imagine. He was so drunk with dad’s name on his lips. He stroked his cock with hopelessness, helplessly filled himself up with his own fingers, again, and again.

     Why did he do this? Why did he have to strip away his skin and lay bared his heart out? He thought he had pulled his shits together. Chuck was supposed to be his father’s son.

     It’s not enough. Nothing he’d tried was near enough. So frustrating, how he was so cold. Chuck desired for more, so much more, it’s drowning him in agony. He cried in defeat, because all along he knew what he wanted. Who he needed. But that person wasn’t, and could never be here with him.

     Chuck bit down hard on his lip, remembering the line of those hands, how the friction with them is fading away from his memories. He’d do anything just to be touched again. The glistening dripped through his hands, when Chuck went harder, faster, whined louder and more desperately.

     He couldn’t possibly have any idea, why dad shouldn’t be home. What’s taking him so long? Why was Herc leaving him lonely?

     …

     Except he isn’t alone. Dad is watching him, from behind the glass, when he looks up through the watery haze surrounding.

     Chuck wants to run but his knees might buckle.

     “Herc.”

     He swallows down the knot, unsure if it’s right or wrong calling his name like this for a thousand times. Chuck turns his head and closes his eyes. The heat from dad’s body, the familiar scent from his skin, the pulsing heartbeat he has been hearing when they fought earlier. Herc walks into the steam, makes him pants and gasps for air. Chuck couldn’t remember to hide the tremor of his body, as dizziness is filling his lungs.

     Chuck was prepared for some predictable inevitable things. For him to stumble up on his feet. For dad to walk away and never come back again. For dad to beat him to death with his rough and strong and bare hands. But he wasn’t at all prepared for how dad touches him right now.

     Dad is holding him, like he is holding something precious and easily hurt and fragile. Chuck hated that, hated that soft and delicate touch. It’s not even trying and Chuck is just melting into it so eagerly. He wants to touch Herc back, wrap him around his own body like a coat, arch into him the way he so wants to be asked to. Dad is hushing into his ears so alluringly, so deep and lush. Has he been imagining this? When his hands found Chuck clumsily tenderly.

     “Oh, baby...” – Dad sighs hot against his lips. Chuck thought dad wasn’t supposed to be here with him, somehow.

     But it doesn’t matter. Dad has him now.

 

\---------

 

 “Why the hell do you even want to be a pilot, Chuck?”

_Because… why do you even care?_

“… I wanted to be with you.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

“You loved me. dad…”

“You gave me something to fight for, a home to return to.”

“… Or at least I thought you used to love me.”

“I have always loved you, baby.”

“I tried everything to get your attention. I wanted you to be proud. But I don’t know how to be your son.”

“You grew up without me so brave and beautiful.”

“I did things, I don’t even want to, don’t even care if it hurts somebody or myself.”

“You slipped into manhood like a second skin. One day I just realized, you didn’t need me anymore.”

“I was desperate for you when you abandoned me.

“We used to be happy. You used to be happy.”

“You don’t listen to me. I’m tired of all this give and take, dad.”

“The anger has built up, this hostility you have for me. We’re father and son, Chuck. You used to love me.”

“Yeah, like we even could… Like you really cared.”

“But I do care, baby. Why don’t you believe me? I would do anything to protect you. I tried to be your hero, someone you’d be proud to call ‘dad’. I want you to love me, at least the way you did. It breaks my heart when you’re gone.”

“I never want you to be my hero, Herc. I don’t love you that way. I never have.”

“I dreams of you.”

“Then why you leave me lonely, why you turned me away like I begged for something you’ll never give me?”

“You are my son. You were Angie’s only child. I cannot hurt you. I tried to stop thinking about you.”

“Do you hate me that much?”

“Do you disgust me?”

“Do you regret saving me?”

“Do you blame me for not saving mom?”

“I saw you cried. You pushed me away.”

“I’d die for you, Chuck. I’ll do anything to save you. I can’t live another day wake up without you.”

“You’re my everything, Herc… I’d give up my life, just to see you one more time.”

 

\---------

 

     It’s not something instantaneous. But when he blinks, Chuck is across the room.

 _Is it really him?_ Herc can’t see anything but fog, and his son, gasping for air as if the boy is suffocating.

     Chuck is on his knees, naked, with his fingers fanning out over himself. And Herc doesn’t remember to look away. His voice is hoarse, strange with uncertainty, when he calls Herc’s name. That moment pierces through his soul, and Herc closes the distance between them, as easy as if it is the most natural thing to do. Walking through the glass of haze, he is dying, with the desire to put a hand on the boy like he wants to, the way he has always wanted to. Herc just can’t tell, why it’s supposed to feel so wrong.

     He wasn’t prepared to be reached out like this. A sickly sweetness gathers inside of him, when Chuck falls into his agitated hands.

     “N- Herc…” – The words dances on Herc’s exploding chest. – “Oh no.”

     Chuck is clutching onto him, calling his name, whispers it softly again and again. Like he’s scared Herc isn’t listening. Like he’s terrified, Herc can actually hear him. The boy is shaking, murmuring hot and wet against his jaw, his lips, his ears. And it feels so good, makes him shudder with Chuck’s body.

     There is so much he wants, when the boy is bared under his touch, his mouth, as those eyes begging for his mercy. Herc doesn’t know why Chuck is braced. Every movement from him is unsure, held back, or buried away with fear. How it breaks his heart, because there is absolutely no needed to be. Herc just wants to kiss him, to keep him warm, to fill the all emptiness he has...

     Is it because, Chuck doesn’t need his comfort. Or Chuck doesn’t want to be touched by him?

     But that he can’t help now. If only, Herc hadn’t been mesmerized, by the water dripping down from those lashes, trickling on the red lips like ripe fruit he didn’t even know that he’s starved for.

     “Oh, baby…”

     Herc wraps his arms around him, how he’s afraid of losing him, like the boy might melt away if he holds him too tight or not tight enough. He just can’t bear the thought of Chuck being hurt. The boy is so careless with himself all the time.

     Should he say sorry, daring to ask for the taste of his mouth? Will Chuck forgive him, if Herc says he dreams even more about his tongue, the breath from his lungs, his lustful lips spilling hisses and groans when Herc milks him dry? Because if Chuck refused, would the boy just let him suck the traces of cum off his fingers clean?

     Maybe he needs to stop and… Because… Something. That he’s not supposed to...

     God! But Herc just can’t tell himself to walk away. He’s willing to get on his knees and beg, it makes him ached with longing.

     Chuck must have felt it across his back, the wall where they are leaning against is cold under Herc’s hand. He really needs to touch himself this instant. Since the cold in his palm is nothing compared to Chuck’s skin, or the shiver throbbing like fire down his belly. Herc presses down the urge to lick along the line of those lips, to let the boy pull him in as they share friction. They pants and whimpers, and Chuck’s hands start tugging under his clothes. Herc can’t help sliding a knee between his thighs, licking warmth, tenderness on every bit of skin he can. It is becoming dangerous, how Chuck throws his head back and bares his throat, falling weaker and weaker as Herc’s hand travelling down with less restrained. Feels so wrong how they haven’t kissed yet. Herc risks on pushing his hip even further. And things break loose of his control, when he hears Chuck bites back a loud moan.

     Time stops, and something has changed in them.

     Chuck kisses him hard without a flinch of hesitation. Trembling, and desperate, holding on to him as relentlessly as Herc is. Their tongues meet with a deep yearning, drawing bites and cries upon their swollen lips as he lays Chuck down the floor.

     Everything that had been holding Herc back from fucking his baby senseless, it has evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace.

     …

     That night, Herc was drunk with love.

     He dreamed about how he had fall for his lover, as the familiar body was pressed close to his.

     He dreamed of Chuck’s hand stripping him exposed.

     But it wasn’t the perfect, spotless kind of love. Not tender and cute, the way someone enjoyed the sweetness of their life. It’s not the hot, spontaneous curiosity of a one sinful night for satisfying pleasure. It was bitter and burning, and good and pure.

     It left him with a raw melancholy, that grew more hopeless with their touch. How it had gone on and on, and stretched far away since Herc had had the first memory as a child. It was so right that nothing made sense. They were both addicted to it, so much that they belonged forever to one another. It was trembling, and clumsy, heartbreakingly real, and it hurt, the way he wished that they weren’t dreaming.

     He remembered the taste of Chuck’s tears on his lips. He could still feel the burst in his veins, when the boy opened up for him like there’s no turning back, like it was going to be their first and last time.

     They were together in their private dance of push and pull. The night was dark, when the sound of their bodies, their desires, their pains rippled through the endless silence and calm. Chuck stayed with him. And Herc wrapped his arms around his baby for eternity.

     Even when everything caught fire and they were burnt in the merciless heat to ashes, they stayed by each other’s side.

     The world around them was cold like the ocean. It was only a vibrant and restless electric blue.


	11. Chapter 11

     It’s not the breaking point for him. He swears that it’s not. But Herc gotta admit, sometimes, he just wishes he could take a rest and never have to wake up again.

    One isn't supposed to come out of bed, to face reality and go to work to something like this. Nothing good has ever come after ‘have a sit, please’. Herc looks across the room. One, two, three, four, five… six including Mako. The two old guys even have the urge to whip out their medal collections on such an occasion.

     Sometimes, he just cannot give a shit about life, generally.

     “Don’t I have something to say about this?” – He speaks up, from the emptiest part of his brain,

     “He’s getting weaker, Herc.”

     And while everything in him is screaming the need to beat the crap out of the men in this room, without missing a beat…

     “Is this about money?”

     They turn her way, authority figure flare up like a serious anaphylaxis.

     “Am I talking to you, Miss Mori?”

     They all seem to forget she’s Stacker’s child… Was.

     “No, sir.”

     “Then why are you speaking without permission, Ranger?”

     The amount of control she has these days is unbelievable. If he isn't shock, perhaps Herc could've been admiring her. Among the group of people who lost their families, Mako is definitely the mature one.

     “I expect more from you than this kind of behavior…”

     Herc wants to say something, before the images of a gruesome death appear and consume his mind.

     “Is this about money?”

     Those wrinkles morph effortlessly when the look turns off on their faces. One of his superiors puts down his glasses, to make space for the sincere expression, the most common trick in the book that has been mastered, every time they bring bad news to the deceased’s families.

     Herc thinks he might be sick, listening to their broken record… Is he supposed to feel grateful, letting them yap about how fucking ‘lucky’ his son has been?

     “Chuck was beyond recovery when we found his escape pod, Herc.”

     “If it weren’t for the doctors’ effort, there’s no way we can find replacement for his limbs, more than half of his vital organs and even part of his brain. We practically grew him back. It’s a miracle now he’s slipping in and out of danger with an intact body.”

     Herc can’t imagine how in the world he could get any more furious than this.

     “It’s been a year now, Herc…” – Then from behind the desk, Gabrielle Meadow decides to join in.

     The woman looks away the instant his eyes shift toward her. No amount of makeup is matching the silent satisfaction oozing out from her skin.

     That moment, he knows, thing could only get worse and much worse for him and Chuck, whenever this woman is around. Even the ground is trembling under his feet. Herc runs a hand over his face, asking himself why the hell did he ever let her came near his son or his pregnant wife…

     It was hurt, how Herc is fully aware of what those men are trying to do. He knows their fate, the way people like him would be treated. A forgotten death will happen eventually, that’s the ending for a soldier whom steps into a jaeger as if they have nothing to lose. But deep down inside, a new kind of question is creeping up, he didn’t know that needs to be asked.

     “And you’re telling me, this is not about money?”

     There are two medal cases put in front of him. Black, with gold colored designs, and words that enrage him.

     Was Gabrielle the one who started this? She convinced the board to pull the plug on purpose, didn’t she? What did that woman tell them?

     Herc is practically shaking. It’s hard to deny that in a disturbing way, things are starting to make sense.

     “Your son was a hero, and he deserved to live like Mori and Becket. But we won’t insult you by telling lies anymore. You must move on, Marshal.”

     “You should take this as a good thing. Now your little campaign will have more funding. So, many, _promising_ issues… Veteran pilots and decommissioned jaeger rights, victimhood from kaiju blue, scientific applications for wartime technology. Maybe it won’t have to die so young…”

 _Jesus Christ_ , the reason Herc’s still able to keep talking is way beyond him!

     “My son is lying in there. That’s where I should be and I stay out here, I do as much as you told me to. After all the shit I’ve eaten for you-”

     “Marshal!”

     “-Chuck sacrificed his life for this world, he was trained at fifteen, almost die at twenty one. And now you’re telling us you will no longer give him the chance to fight?”

     “It’s not about money, Herc. Your son just couldn’t get any better. And you’re killing yourself.”

     His blood is slowly reaching a violent heat, seeing them flutter like a bunch of leaves in the wind.

     “This is just bullshit!”

     “Look, this... This isn't personal... It's not about your son. It's not about money or politic. It's just, you and… your way of grieving.”

     “What do want me to do then? Cry my eyes out days and night. Don’t eat don’t sleep don’t work, lock myself in a room. And then less than a year later, decide to give up on my only son and just move on?”

     How can he manage to swallow down the mortification in his throat…

     “That’s exactly what you all have always been hoping for, isn’t it?” – Herc says, as his words are dangerously slipping out of control.

     ‘cause people might not react well to the amount of attention the government pays the ‘veteran, career soldier, with a dying heroic son’. But who could guarantee the media would pass such a title, like ‘formal marshal of the PPDC abused his own child’… Oh the perfect reason to cut them loose.

     Herc can’t help but chuckle. The board is cleaning the scene and his son’s life is just an inevitable collateral damage, either way.

     “We don’t have the resource and equipment for keeping him on life support any longer, Herc.”

     “You mean you need more juice for your Jaegers Cold War.”

     The room goes dead silent. Herc doesn’t need a reply to know that he hit home.

     The men whispers to one another, as the tension stirs thick in the air with their familiar pathetic threats, and the anger pulsing from his heart like wildfire through his veins. Right now Herc isn’t sure whether he wants to kill every last single one of them, or seek some kind of peace and comfort at the bottom of the ocean.

     Nobody dares to say anything in a long time, when he is staring daggers and his superiors are quietly preparing for an attack.

     “May I remind you about the situation, Mr. Hansen? We are still recovering from the war…”

     “The one _we_ soldiers won with our lives and deaths? Yeah, I remember that.”

     Herc is going mad from the morons’ ignorance. He could throw a stick across the room and hit another person with a part of them has lost forever from their life in the same jaeger.

     “What do you think is the most valuable thing in this Shatterdome, Marshal?

     How would you define ‘war’, huh, Hansen?”

     Herc snarls low in his throat.

     “That has always been your fucking job isn’t it? When no monster is around, you point the way, we go. All the killings were done and then you just don’t give a shit about who will die next for your other wars.”

     Every bit of frustration pours from his lungs, spilling out broken pieces of sanity, bitterness and laughter.

     It’s true, that none of them has had any sort of plan for his son’s survival. But the world keeps spinning and Stacker’s duties have become Herc’s. The money people are putting up with him, only because he’s the most experienced pilot, the current face of the old world united jaeger program. The price for Herc’s obedience is getting too high, when suddenly Gabrielle Meadow provides the opportunity and a safe solution to get rid of the both of them. Giving up Chuck or a quite discharge for himself, in case he goes public and demand justice for his son...  Well!

     No type of scandal is good for politic. They won’t need him anytime soon. They would still have Mako, they would still have Raleigh.

     “Mr. Hansen, we appreciate everything you and your son did, in the name of peace-”

     “Shut the fuck up, you cunts! We are not Americans! I don’t want a bloody purple heart, I want my son…”

     Herc can’t tell if he screams or not. He’s just too tired to care, about anything other than how to deal with this whole new roiling dilemma. How could he save Chuck from these animals? How can he protect his son, from Herc himself?

     “You… You’re not living in the real world, Herc.”

     “It is not war time anymore, Hansen. You pilots are no true heroes. These are much more frightening times...”

     “Kids, nowadays, they have to grow up in a world that, you and I, we wouldn't even recognize.”

     “Pollution, food shortage, economic crisis, imbalance military power… It's a world without hope. If we don’t prepare ourselves, Marshal… God forbid!”

     “The allies… Our nations won’t survive.”

     “You don't know what it's like to raise a kid-”

     Herc stands up straight with a glass shattered in his hand.

     “No! Fuck you all! I _did,_ raise a kid through a war.”

     He storms out of the room, with Mako right behind his back. The door is kept opened, and nobody has the gut to shout their names.

     The two of them walk down the hall, through the crowded factory, busy with workers and technicians as if another kaiju is roaring at the breach. Sometimes, they all act like the world has forgotten Pitfall. Mako just keeps following him. The unwavering strength on her face makes Herc can’t deny, how Stacker was a much better marshal, a much better father than him.

     Around the corner, Raleigh is waiting for her. Herc nods to the couple young pilots before heading the other way. Mako hugged him tight as they said goodbye. He feels so lost in times like those. And then like a flash in a sea of people, he sees a figure of a boy.

     His boy…

     ‘ _Stay here_ ’, Herc had told him, the time he’d left his baby behind to do gods knew what. He stood right there all alone, searching for something as their city, their home… the monster, had vanished in flame.

     He was so young and weary. Chuck was ten, when Herc looked at him from across the chaotic RAAF military base, without any guilt from not having pain or remorse, but rather joy and relief for choosing his son. They squeezed their way through the crowd to each other. Herc was rendered frozen and speechless, Chuck was ten when he ran to him, held on to him tight as if he didn’t need water, or even care for whatever it was in his father’s hands. The boy’s racing heartbeat was thumping against his own. Herc dropped everything, trying to hold him back, the way Chuck clung on to him like he’s not letting Herc going anywhere without him ever again.

_‘What took you so long, dad?’_

     His baby’s cheeks were stained with strangers’ blood, with smoke and dry tears.

     Herc wasn’t ready. For the color in Chuck’s eyes was a glistening blue. Like the turquoise of ocean surface under the sparkling heat of the sun. Like they had stars in them. And wasn’t that, such a heartbreakingly beautiful sight…


	12. Billie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standard disclaimer: It's supposed to be sound like a life crisis so please don't take this too seriously, morally speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just watched First Reform and i was like wtf i gotta write this. Plus when you're depressed, just listen to Patton Oswalt. And also fuck science.

     Hong Kong, January 10th, 2027.

     Shatterdome, Day 195.

 

     I normally don’t do this. The idea of a diary just seems too awkward to me…

     Sign has always been my language. Longhand makes English as challenging and foreign as Cantonese or any language that I cannot hear.

     But everyone has their own baggage. I want to practice, and be good with it. The way dad is trying his best to learn mine. So I have decided to keep a journal, writing down every thought, every simple event of my day in words. Through each mistakes, every inflection of penmanship that was scratched out, hopefully, I can be better.

 

     Journal is a form of speaking, a communication which can be achieved simply without rejection or approval of any kind. It is a form of prayer. A confession to some people, doesn’t matter one’s religion or belief.

     I don’t have the urge, nor desire to write about myself today. Today, I will try to let it be a recollection with honest and no mercy.

 

     Our home is now officially a harbor city.

     Dad has found us a new house. It isn’t far from Shatterdome and Allison’s place. The air somehow doesn’t smell like kaiju blood. The sky doesn’t seem can be any clearer than this. And it has a breathtaking view to the sea.

     Today we went hiking again. It’s still just the two of us. We stopped at a restaurant on our way back to have fish and miso, for something in our hearts to ponder and pray for…

     Should I write down, how the world is both under-, and overwhelming at the same time? Since thirteen isn’t that old…

     Thirteen isn’t much. Forty seven or twenty one, perhaps it isn’t enough either. I am just one in thousands who was born in the war. We had grown up, and grown old with the awareness of a foreseeable apocalyptic future, the day nuclear bombs desperately try to kill the monsters, as much destruction would be brought to mankind when jaegers were nothing but giant coffins for brave warriors. Nobody knew what to say, seeing Mutavore walked through the Wall of Life, and all jaegers’ decommission. Less and less people had hope or a sense of purpose. I am just one in millions who didn’t care to imagine, what it was to be living in peace.

     Until one day, the Clock has stopped. A new chapter was open, both exhilarating and terrifying.

     Two years ago, Pitfall happened on January 12th. Two days from now, it is Stacker Pentecost’s Memorial Day. And it’s going to be Chuck Hansen’s, if he won’t wake up before the doctors pull him off of life support on January 12th.

     Cruel, isn’t it… I had thought, twenty one isn’t supposed to be the end of life.

     But who cares about peace? Who cares about a whole generation whom were born to fight kaijus? Who cares about the new generation whom had prepared to die, lived with the norm of giant monsters instead of irreversible global warming? Resources are money. Resources are war. War is money. And money is powerful. There has always existence apart from us, before and after. We are all children, naïve and ungrateful, never be enough to join the conversation about sacrifice, life or death, and sins.

     It’s not that great. Life is just okay.

     Mankind is programmed to self-destruct. If it weren’t for the monsters, we would probably have a different ending for our own. If it’s not for what’s left of the jaeger program, the world would probably find something else to tear itself apart. Just another reason to stack up weapons with the fear of other countries weaponize giant machines.

     So much for the United Nations.

     I wonder what had been told to all the pilots had died stepping into a jaeger. All the soldiers had put on the full suit of armor, past, present and future to come. How many were conquerors? How many of them had thought they were fighting the war to end all wars?

     Pentecost and Herc Hansen were among the first generation of rangers had been trained to fight kaijus. They had fought side by side for years, piloted every Mark series of Jaeger that had been produced. Donovan Hansen taught at ADFA for almost 30 years. Herc was encouraged to enlist, like his brother was, like his father before him.

     They say it was the family tradition. Herc is fearless, a ‘born fighter’, a ‘career soldier’ who raised his son in the cockpit, and after that, the principles of the PPDC. They say the lifestyle of a ranger instilled the desire to be a jaeger pilot in his son at a very young age. Chuck grew up to be elite, the world record holder for the most kaiju kills. Chuck Hansen ‘was’, his father’s son…

     People rarely say what they mean. Most of the time, they aren’t cruel enough to say ‘the only good thing about Chuck Hansen is being somebody else’s son’. Fifty percent him, fifty percent her and that’s all.

     How sad it is, as if he has never been his own man.

     One tends to fantasize despair and anxiety are indications of how wise we are, yet simply, they are much better indications of how wicked we can be towards each other. The world can talk one to their despair.

_“I know that nothing can change and I know there is no hope.”_

     The words seem chosen, but it was said without hiding anything.

     Despair sometimes is suffering, sometimes is loneliness, sometimes is resentment and regret, a void that can only be filled by courage. The heart can’t choose who it loves. Nobody knows the right thing to do, when you love someone whom you’re not supposed to. What action must be taken? What must not…? The desire to pray itself is a type of prayer. How easily they talk about praying, those who have never really prayed.

     Herc Hansen is in love with Chuck.

_He’s my son. He’s my wife’s only child. I’m supposed to protect him, not…”_

     Speaking language is such a complicated way of communication.

     Feelings sometimes are burdens, rather than elements of helping you express yourself. Reading lip is hard most of the time. Because when I see their faces, I see not truth, but conflict and contradiction. Dad asked if they had ever really talked about it, kissed like they’d wanted to.

_“We didn’t… I would never do that. ‘Why not’? What does that even mean?”_

     Such simple answer. Why does one deny himself?

     We all grow up, playing a fake version of our parents. To have their approval, to be better than them… To truly break free. It’s hard to find ourselves in this life. It’s even harder to except the outcome, who we really are, who we would become. _‘We must never forget our roots’, ‘we must never forget our families, ‘our duties’, ‘our obligations in society’_. One does not have or like a true self tends to put on, cover up just by other people’s perspectives and definitions.

     I wonder which one is more ‘us’ than the other. Being someone’s child, someone’s student, guidance, someone’s spouse… When we strip away our identities, facing each other with nothing but our thoughts and prayers, will we be judged by some gods and men, for our nature aren’t pretty by the standards of this twisted cruel world?

     Nobody can decide how they were born. It’s either fate, gods, or pure randomness’s doing when we were born with sickness, famine and poison, or to the pair of people who we’re not allowed to choose. If our so-called identities are that much important to must not ever forget… Are we created just to hold a man and a woman’s image, molded to meet, to obey other already existed and existing human’s expectations…

     Do we even exist at all?

     Even when you’re deaf, the world is just too exhaustingly loud sometimes.

     From time to time, I fight the urge to stop the medication and therapy, to ask dad to donate every usable organs and let my ash fly free in Liu To Shan. Maybe that would be too much to ask him. Jump off from the ruins of a skyscraper would be decent enough. This is still Hong Kong after all…

     But then again, perhaps, I’m just a little bit tired.

     All the effort, all the fighting while everyone just keeps screaming, turning away yet refuse to ignore any chance to shame and step on our body… I can’t even hear my thoughts sometimes.

     Sometimes we cannot or are brave to hear the right question.

_“I’m not asking anything else, Herc. Just as simple as it can be. Do you love Chuck?”,_ dad had asked him.

     They say people who sin, who kill themselves, cannot go to heaven. I must ask somebody, what gods’ punishment can be, for the ones who destroy their land, their beautiful creations, in the name of whatever it may be. What type of monster would rise from the ocean tomorrow, for another generation to desperately trade lives and deaths, so the people with power and money can keep their control over morality, what should or should not be done in this sick cycle of life…

     I have always believe, that each of our own decision should be based on what we consider is good, not the fear of punishment. Things are gray, not black-and-white, At least that’s what I believe is the right thing. How do we as human can see what is supposed to be the right thing to do in this chaos? Who is the right one to love? What is the right way to love somebody who is or was a part of you?

     You can’t deny who you are forever. You’ll die on the inside a little bit every day, and you’ll kill the one that loves you too eventually.

_“What if it is wrong?”_

_“If it’s wrong then, what else do you got to lose?”_

     Perhaps conflict is what we are. Wisdom is holding two contradictory truths in our minds, simultaneously. Right and wrong. Hope and despair. The idea of certainty without fully understanding the opposite is just being blind. A life without despair is a life without hope. Holding these two ideas in our head is life itself.

     When reason provides no answers, courage is the only solution to despair. ‘I can't know what the future will bring. In the end we all have to choose despite uncertainty.’ Doing nothing, or stand your ground and do everything to stand. _For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the authorities, the rulers, against the powers and evils of this dark world._

     It seems that I have failed to fight the temptation to write down whichever thoughts come to my mind. Like these lines were written in delirium instead of myself.

     This, perhaps… it’s not about a certain frustration of mine, or the definition of virtue. Perhaps this is pride, my lack of will, my own despair. Depression is just a development of pride so great that it chooses one’s certitude rather than admit life is random and more creative than we are.

     Wish I had not use the word ‘pride’, but I cannot cross it out now. Desolation comes upon me as soon as I close my eyes. I must set pen to paper. Yet it is hard, struggling against torpor.

     If only I could pray…

     These pages will be torn away, burnt. But I am determined to continue. Although I doubt it would be any different, I wish to stop then come back. To see if things would change in my point of view…

     I need some time to collect my thoughts.

 

\-----

_“Hey there, baby.”_

_“Hi, Dad…”_

_“Thought you went out with Mike today.”_

_“I just want to write some’ down. Plus I’m feeling a bit off right now.”_

_“You okay?”_

_“I mean… fifteen cc of morphine tenses to make life doesn’t seem all worrisome. So, yeah!”_

_“Well, at least you’re not going out in the night with a boy.”_

_“We’re friends, dad.”_

_“Right…”_

_“I’m serious. I-”_

_“What about Mazy, then?”_

_“… What… do you mean what about her?”_

_“Aw! You’re blushing.”_

_“No I’m not.”_

_“Ha, I knew it!”_

_“Dad!”_

_“Billie! I just want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with being gay, or bi-”_

_“Urg, dad…”_

_“- And it’s okay to love whoever. This is not… ‘what’s the sign’…”_

_“The dark ages.”_

_“Right! …That. The heart wants what it wants.”_

_“You know the sign to that but not the ‘dark ages’?”_

_“Pf, why I need that? This matter is more important. Point is there’s no shame in loving a boy or a girl.”_

_“Of course there isn’t.”_

_“Exactly. Plus age is just a number. You and Mazy have my blessing, and her father’s also.”_

_“Oh my god, Dad!”_

_“-What’s his name again?”_

_“Seriously this is a violent turn of subject.”_

_“… Oh right! Adrian.”_

_“Why are we even talking about this?”_

_“Because, this is the future. Your future, baby. Adrian is a sassy European and I like him. I’m sure he and his daughter like you, too…”_

_“… Don’t you have some meeting to attend or some charts to read, Mr. Choi?”_

_“Nope. We finished early. Herc is still negotiating with the U.N. so everything will be on hold for now…”_

_“Ah! I see.”_

_“You could’ve called me, you know…? If I didn’t know better, I’d thought you’re trying weed or something.”_

_“No, I’m fine, dad. It’s nothing,”_

_“You don’t have to do this alone. I could pick up some sushi and douhua on the way back... Bet you’re craving for those now after all these… well, whatever 5miligrams of Benzytrix does.”_

_“Dad…”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you think it’s because of the Drift…?”_

_“What?”_

_“ The Hansens…”_

_“… You know.”_

_“I can read lip. I’m sorry.”_

_“No, it’s me. I shouldn’t have talked about that in front of you…”_

_“Guess, I’m not old enough to have this conversation.”_

_“You can have a conversation about anything, Billie. I’m the one who’s not wise enough to give you an answer…”_

_“Dad-”_

_“Look, baby… I’m not a smart guy, or a pilot. But I know this, the Drift doesn’t make them do things. It just shows. The past, present, the other person, the lives beyond their own. And they never have to do things they don’t want to… I can see you’re upset, because you don’t think that it’s wrong._

_It’s not your fault when you can’t explain yourself, or make others understand your thoughts and decisions. As long as that’s what you need, what you want, you don’t hurt yourself and people around you, you can do anything. And nothing would make me have doubt in you, Billie.”_

_“What if… I don’t want to live anymore…?”_

_“… You don’t want to live ‘like this’… There’s a difference. I know you love the good things in life. I love you, and I’ll miss you if you’re not here with me. But life isn’t just good, sometimes feels like it doesn’t really worth the struggling. And I do feel responsible, for brought you into a world like this.”_

_“No, I didn’t mean that. You have done so much. I shouldn’t have burdened you with this stuff.”_

_“Still… wish I could’ve given you a better life.”_

_“I think you are more than enough, dad. I’m sorry...”_

_“Your life is yours to decide, baby. For now, I can only promise to protect you. Maybe in the next life, you’ll have better parents, and better health.”_

_“Or society is going to collapse and I’d have to live in a weird radiated waste land.”_

_“Oh, so you call this a smooth turn of subject?”_

_“Yeah! We should probably do something so I wouldn’t be chased by mutants on motorcycle, right?”_

_“Sure, young lady!”_

_“I mean, since we all know that mutants on motorcycle are all cannibals, and I don’t want to be out there in the Road Warrior Waste land hungry and depressed.”_

_“What should we do then? Dinner at Haru or-?”_

_“Honestly I’m kind of thinking about you and I can help Herc finding dirt on L. Taylor.”_

_“Damn, kid! We gotta work on this… ‘thing’ of yours. Because that is just one creepy step away from ‘a woman is walking around in my daughter’s teenage skin’ right now. You sure you’re thirteen?”_

_“I don’t know, dad. Does this washcloth smell like chloroform to you?”_

_“Funny.”_

_“Everybody knows he’s corrupt and you don’t need to be an expert to know the American still holds one of the biggest vote.”_

_“Yeah, he’s as much of a jerk as Cole.”_

_“I bet they and Meadow are all in bed about Chuck.”_

_“Wouldn’t be so surprise if Uncle Touchy has a shady puzzle basement somewhere.”_

_“So what now, dad? What will happen if we can’t win?”_

_“I don’t know, Billie. Guess we can only hope for the best…_

_But perhaps all the negative stuffs that have been piling up, it might very well be the push we all been waiting for, to the one thing that matters the most toward the right direction, baby.”_


	13. Chapter 13

     This must be a cold joke, or life is just blatantly one heartless bitch.

     “You must have a death wish coming here!” – Herc needs to stay calm, since now shouldn’t no way be his final straw.

     “You’ve been avoiding me, and you don’t return my calls, ever. Even before this…”

     “So take a hint, Doctor.”

     It’s too late, or early in the morning for him to start losing it. Herc walks pass the woman in front of him. Thank gods Gabrielle didn’t try to touch or reach out. Otherwise, Herc wasn’t really sure how bloody hell can he keep his nerves.

     “Relax, Herc. I just want to make peace. You might want to hear what I gotta say.”

     His hands start to shake, struggling to unlock the door.

     “I’ve heard enough, thank you. Just go back and tell them I got the memo, would you?”

     He thought he had it right. But the key code seems all wrong and the cause of problems in his life is just a few steps behind. Her eyes are on him, watching him punches the number, might has been for a hundred times with aggravating anger.

     It makes his skin crawls, knowing how much violence and frustration is bleeding out. How did he get to this point…

     “I can’t raise suspicion, I can’t blow any whistle, I can’t kill the campaign without causing attention, I can’t resign without causing question or transfer my son. Basically you and your buddies just want me to kill off Chuck and that’s the only thing I’m allowed to do. So yeah, forgive me if I can’t politely ask you to fuck off.”

     “Even when I save him?”

_Jesus Christ!_ If Herc isn’t in rage, perhaps he could’ve laughed like crazy.

     “’Saved’ is such a loose word, don’t you think, lady? Not to mention, Newt saved my son, you didn’t do shit besides taking credit.” – Herc is so close to kicking open a reinforced steel door.

     “Your friend would have been in prison for illegal experiment if I didn’t.”

     “All because you didn’t approve him, we had to break in to give Chuck the injection in the middle of the night.”

     He breaths in and out, tries not to give up on the number keypad, considering how this is the perfect time to be in doubt and blame himself.

     “My son could have had a better chance if you’d just let Newt give him the serum from the beginning.”

     That… Or started killing him slowly sooner, Herc doesn’t know. Sometimes, he wonders if it’s the right thing to do, that they gave his son more time to fight, or just bought Chuck a few more months lying in bed, before he dies for real.

     “Maybe he’s better being dead.”

     One instant flicks away, and air is rushing out from his lungs.

     This woman is undoubtedly the fucking eye of the shit storm. Herc turns around. Gabrielle is way too many steps past their out-of-life safe zone. He has gone blind from the thrill’s seeping into his bones, spreading toxic. The urge to pull out his knife pumps boiling blood through his veins.

     “The fuck, did you just say?”

     He feels nauseous, the moment he notices something.

     ”Hercules Hansen. You, and your precious baby boy… you both deserve Hell.”

     Life is one nettling bitch. And her hair is down with a smirk on her face. Locks of wavy blond hair dance in the wind like snakes on her shoulders. She is wearing a white dress, fluttering and coy, as if it’s the skin of his dead wife.

     Herc grits his teeth, as hard as he is holding back his bruised fists.

     “Today is not the day you want to test me.”

     “Or you can give me what I want and I will keep your son alive.”

     Is she expecting him to beg? The horror washes over him, seeing how all the cards on the table are being played. This is how it’s gonna be isn’t it…

     “You call this is making peace?”

     The realization is piling up in his mouth.

     “Your choice, Herc. What’s this going to be?”

     Herc can’t breathe. The sight of her is the last thing he ever wants to see, as much as the thought of his wife. It drives him sick. It makes Herc want to take Chuck and run far away. He wishes he could just kill her or puke out an apology from his empty mind. That the solution is something as simple. He desperately wished, she just wants him dead for the kind of fucked up he is.

     But the will to get on his knees isn’t what she demands.

_No._

     Gabrielle climbs on the door steps. Her perfume pushes Herc flat against the spine chilling metal. Not her perfume. Angie’s. She smiles, all sweet and disgusting, when she pulls out something between her breasts.

     “What do you want?”

     “You know what I want.”

     One quick swipe and the door open behind his back.

     “Don’t make me kill you.”

     She pulls on his tie like a leash.

     “Good Lord, Herc. You’re a little bit tensed, aren’t you?”

     “Go, away!”

     “Come on now, Herc.”

     The woman passes through the door as if nothing matters and nobody will dare to stop her from having what she wants. It doesn’t, really. She has the over write key card to his room.

     Is it too late to do anything? Even the idea of her turns air in his dry throat to ashes. Time is running out. Maybe for Chuck, Herc shouldn’t have wanted to refuse this distasteful solution so badly.

     “It’s not torture we’re talking about here. It’s just sex.”

     “You might as well just torture me.”

     Another helpless attempt to make her leave. His pulse is jumping like a wild animal being cage. This mess, it’s all because he hadn’t buried himself deep enough. Would it come down to this if he hadn’t spat at her with ill-temper? It’s already too much to bear. And Herc just keeps wondering, could it be any less hopeless… if he hadn’t fallen in love with his own son…

     Herc shouldn’t have made her any madder. But Gabrielle continues looking at him, amused as she’s enjoying a glass of wine. She’s going to drag him through mud and shame.

      “You really can’t stand me, can you?” – She chuckles.

      “God, every breath I takes around you is poison in my lungs.”

     The minute stretches out, and she leans back on the door. He hears it clicks shut, his heart drops like a dead weight down into a bottomless hole. Herc walks away before she could reach for his hair.

     He can feel she is at his heels, he feels her hand grasping his suit.

     Gabrielle clicks her tongue when he turns to face her and slaps it away. She knows Herc’s resistance is pathetic. The woman knows how much he wants to slap her straight in the face.

     “If you want your son, then you’ll need to ask yourself how much of you that might disagree.”

     The fury is being gnawed by the panic. Herc presses hard on his eyes until he sees stars. What an idiot of him, straightening his suit and tie, as if it actually means something.

     There’s no going back from this?

     “You said it before, you love him, you say you’ll do anything for him. Didn’t you?”

     He stands tall, while Gabrielle’s circling around him, peeling of his clothes layer by layer. Dizziness swirls high in his mind but his soul couldn’t escape the reality. There’s no one here to help him. He’s the one who’s supposed to protect his son.

     The woman whispers guilt into his ear.

     “Oh you dream of touching him like this, don’t you?”

     Her red lips scratch wet on his skin, her hands slowly unbuttoning his shirt. It’s like a thousand needles in his churning stomach. Herc is choked by the breaths from her hovering red mouth.

     The perfume spikes and burns in his eyes. _Fuck!_ He just can’t help it. Herc shouldn’t have been desperately thinking about Chuck right now…

     “Well, if you really want him, is your dignity more important than his life?”

     Herc stares dead into her eyes, letting her rakes through his hair.

     “Show me, what you’re willing to do for him.”

     Just suck it up and get it over with! No mantra and prayer will set them free. Herc feels completely raw, by how much he’s dying to snap Gabrielle’s neck. By the fact he is thinking of Chuck in this inconceivable misery. The way Herc is unconsciously calling his name…

     When her hands are cracking his jaw…

     “Do as I say, or tomorrow you can live out your little fantasy on his cold body.”

     Herc knows that it’s not right. It’s too many kinds of wrong, crying out for his son when his hand is choking a woman who is dressing up like Angie.

     “You fucking hag!”

     Gabrielle moans out loud, flaunting her smugness in his face as this is nowhere near the end. Of course she is shameless. He is the one with a skeleton to hide. How much she loves this… She loves him grabbing her by her blonde hair. She loves how hard his hand is crushing her slender neck, yet he is the one that is suffocating.

     “Come on now… Harder.”

     Herc’s face is turning deep red, when he hears her hissing and cackling.

      “Don’t pretend like I’m the sick one here.”

     She digs her nails into him. He shuts his eyes, trying to let her lips touch his but he just can’t.

     Herc isn’t aware of the pain and the blood, the second he takes a step away and she pushes him down the floor. Everything is numb with agony. Gabrielle lifts up her skirt to climb on him. Herc turns to his left, seeking his broken piece. Only, Chuck isn’t there. So Herc grabs onto his scattered clothes, anything… anything other than his knife. When she pulls down the zipper on her back…. Gabrielle squirms as if she is dancing on his lying body.

     “Tell me, how much do you love your son?”

     He flips her over. And his tight lips crush on hers until he can taste the coppery.

     “That’s what I think.” – The woman snarls with satisfaction. – “Start acting like it Hansen.”

     The urge to fight back, to flee is screaming as a nature. But Herc is shivering, his body doesn’t know how… if, he could even do this. The moment he finally surrenders, Herc holds his breath, he closes his tearing eyes. The ringing explodes into a lifeless silence around him.

     Perhaps this is the real punishment for what he is.

     “You disgust me, Gab-”

     Perhaps this is his atonement.

     “Think of your boy, Hercules Hansen.”

     In what kind of delusion would Chuck look at him, knowing how lost he is, how clueless he has always been? Herc doesn’t know what to do. He never does when it comes to his baby. Maybe Angie would have, she was always the perfect parent. And that’s not who he is.

     Complication, bitterness… that’s everything he brings.

     His mind starts wandering in the void. _That’s right. It is your fault!_

     Does it even mean something, how much he regrets, wishes he could hold Chuck tight in his arm? Could he ever forgive Herc or everything is already too late for them?

     Herc swears it’s supposed to be wrong. He can tell, just can’t remember why he’s having this kind of guilty, hearing Chuck calling out for him.

     No. Herc doesn’t want it to be this way. Like Chuck were ten again. Like it was the time, the chaotic fade into distant noise behind their steel door. The headache is thumping loud and relentless. His hand gripped the bathroom sink, propped himself up, as if the air is forcing him down. He splashed his face with cold water, with the hopelessness of finding some answer in his tired eyes in the mirror.

     And then Herc froze as he saw… sees his son’s image at the corner.

_“Daddy…?”_

     He hadn’t even remembered to wipe away his baby’s tear.

     Chuck was about to embrace him. The boy was just ten. And how hard Herc tried to push Chuck out the door.

     He doesn’t want Chuck to catch him like this. Herc didn’t want Chuck seeing him cried in defeat and despair.

     His son’s tiny hands were desperately seeking, holding on to his arms.

_“I’m sorry, dad!”_

     “Go! Chuck, please… I, I can’t…” _Don’t look at me!_

_Please stop it, dad! “I’m so sorry…”_

     In a hysterical, senseless state of mind, Herc is frantically fighting the teeth biting into his skin, the claws holding him down like shackles. He couldn’t say if he shouted out or not. The words are being drawn out from his lungs. – “No…”

     “ _Not now, baby!”… Not like this._

     Herc was too painful to realize the shock in his boy’s innocent blue eyes.

_“Dad!”_

     If this is Herc’s breaking point… – “ _You know I’ll always love you, right, Chuck?_ ” – Did it start for him… the moment Herc had pushed him away?

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a happy ending for it, I swear.


End file.
